


A Fish Needs a Bicycle

by Ozdiva



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 84,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozdiva/pseuds/Ozdiva
Summary: AU set in the mid 20th Century. Marilla Cuthbert and Rachel Lynde endure life's highs and lows but can always rely on each other for companionship. ** Warning Domestic Violence **





	1. Chapter 1

"Ridge, Ridge don't tell me Geraldine never told you. The twins aren't yours; they're the love children of her and …"

One afternoon Marilla Cuthbert was knitting in her warm kitchen a cold cup of coffee by her side, the flood of mellow June sunlight dancing over the scuffed mossy green linoleum floor. She'd rushed to town that morning to buy the week's groceries and had made sure she returned home in time for her show. A semi-frozen chicken lay wrapped in the refrigerator, ready to be thawed in the microwave; that and a can of mushroom soup on the green Formica countertop would be the main ingredients of that night's dinner. It was no work to assemble and pop the dish into the oven*. Matthew would be pleased, chicken a la king was his favourite.

Marilla was intently listening to her favourite radio play The Young and The Irritable, frowning at the poor grammar; better for the big reveal she supposed, even if the syntax was wanting. She'd followed the show for years, kidding herself that it was a step up from watching soapies on the television; ever since she'd inadvertently overheard a plot twist whilst looking for the news one Tuesday afternoon years earlier, namely the uncertain parentage of the aforementioned twins. It was nonsense really, she reminded herself as she turned on the dial every Tuesday; but it kept her entertained on those quiet afternoons when nothing much else was happening. With Anne off to Redmond and Matthew pottering about in the fields; a woman could get mighty lonely hereabouts.

She'd stared in the mirror earlier that morning angling it away from the dawn sunlight slanting in through the window. Blonde dye fading from her long grey hair. Stroking her cheeks, she examined herself intently before putting her glasses on for a closer look, was that another wrinkle? She stroked the laughter lines by her right eye. She was getting old; was old. Dressed in a sleeveless faded denim dress, a string of Indian beads around her neck and old leather sandals, Marilla's bare legs and tanned arms were peeling a little where she had gotten sunburnt the week before, she rubbed some Nivea onto her skin. She wore her hair in a plait today on account of the heat though often left it brushed out, proud of its length.

Now glancing down at her chest she wondered if she had made a mistake. She had stared for a long while at her bra that morning, had even taken it in her hands, but the expected warmth forced her hand and she had left it in the drawer. If Matthew noticed her sagging chest, he made no comment over his breakfast muesli. Her mother always nagged her about her appearance, but she was the product of a different generation bless her soul. Their parents had passed a few years back and while it had been their time, she missed them. Matthew was slow and steady and not much company of an evening. Thank goodness for the radio, without it Green Gables would be exceedingly quiet.

Matthew had grumbled about the milking machine that morning, it wasn't working properly. Marilla sighed, that would be a day's work lost as he tried to mend it. She hoped it was repairable, they could hardly afford a new one or to get a mechanic over to fix it. Still he was pretty handy, she was quite sure he would get it sorted. Of course time was a factor, it had to be ready by that night's milking. Lord knew she didn't want to spend hours hand milking upset cows.

"What are you implying?" Ridge interrupted. Anything to drag the denouement out thought Marilla wearily, c'mon get on with it. Finally, it appeared as if her years of patient listening was going to pay off as the climax of the radio story line approached. She stopped knitting, waiting for Ridge's reaction to the information. He should have known, the twins had bright red hair so different to his own black curls and strangely similar to the hair his neighbour sported; a point they made often enough down the years. Not only was Ridge cuckolded, Marilla mused, he was as dense as two planks. Honestly, he was so dim he deserved to be deceived.

"Yes, it's true they're really…" Just at that moment on the edge of her hearing another noise barged in, the familiar rattle of her neighbour Rachel Lynde's old Dodge truck. Rachel had pleaded with her husband Thomas to replace the truck on many occasions, but he always refused saying, "why would I waste money on a lousy woman driver?" The upshot was that its rattily engine always announced Rachel's arrival; on the days she reached her destination at all. Many was the time she had to leave it on the side of the road after it had conked out. Thankfully Marilla lived just up the road a piece, a trip the Dodge usually managed without a hitch.

Something that for lack of any other name might be called friendship existed and always had existed between Marilla Cuthbert and Mrs Rachel, in spite of – or perhaps because of – their dissimilarity. Where Marilla was quiet and, some might say unkindly, skinny; Rachel was Rubenesque and chatty, yet despite their differences they remained good chums.

Blast, Marilla thought rolling her eyes, talk about rotten timing. She tried to tune back into the radio show, but she had missed his initial reaction and now the ever-stupid Ridge was voicing his incredulity. Surely his wife Geraldine would never behave in that manner, "she could never be unfaithful," he said plaintively. Oh, for goodness sake, Marilla thought as she switched the radio off and headed out the front door. Still shaking her head, she watched as Rachel drove her truck up the driveway, red gravel scattering under the wheels.

Her thoughts swiftly left the machinations of Ridge and Geraldine as Rachel slowly emerged from the truck wincing as if in pain. As much as she tried, there was no ignoring the fresh black eye she exhibited, nor her fat lip. "Oh, my dear," Marilla blurted. She ran swiftly over to her friend reaching her arms out, Rachel speechlessly burrowed her head into her shoulder. Marilla hugged Rachel's waist gently as she led her inside.

Sitting her friend down at the kitchen table, Marilla rummaged in the icebox for the steak set by for another night. Once she located it, she wrapped it in a wash cloth and handed it over. Rachel received it gratefully and put the cold meat up to her eye. They sat at the kitchen table together, Rachel holding the steak to her face with her right hand, Marilla clasping her left. It was not the first time, nor she suspected the last, but she would always support her friend.

"You fink I'm a thool," Rachel eventually said around her swelling lip, unsuccessfully trying to wipe the drool spilling down her split lip.

"No, I don't think you're a fool. I think you're trapped," Marilla replied grimly, fetching a hanky and wiping Rachel's chin for her.

Rachel lowered the steak and looked at Marilla through her rapidly closing eye. "You fink I thould leave him." Gingerly she felt around her mouth with her tongue, had she lost a tooth? The way she lisped made her suspect as much; to her relief they were all still in situ.

"Shh, shh," Marilla placated.

Leaving Thomas was not an option, not if Rachel wanted to see her kids again. Rachel knew it and what's more Thomas used it to his advantage. Marilla didn't even bother asking what had set him off. It could be any one of a number of minor infractions. Perhaps Rachel had appeared less enthusiastic about his approaches, perhaps a child had misbehaved, perhaps there was a speck of dust on the floor? It didn't take much provocation for his fists to fly.

Marilla had known Thomas for many years and hated him with a vengeance. The man was a narcissist who loved nothing more than belittling his wife. As far as Marilla could make out, he didn't even like children all that much; what he did like was the hold it gave him over her. So long as Rachel loved those children, and until the law changed, she was stuck with him.

Rachel and Thomas had married many years before. He had been charming while they dated and shortly after they married, but his mean spiritedness had become apparent shortly thereafter. Several children followed in short order. Marilla, whom love had left behind, watched on from afar silently envious. But as Rachel churned out baby after baby every eighteen months or so; her envy turned to pity. It was obvious after about the fourth that Rachel had little say in the matter. A vehemently religious man, Thomas Lynde believed the will of God should not be denied when it came to procreation and resolutely refused to use any form of contraception. After lifetime of farming he was a strong man with wide shoulders and big biceps. Some might call him handsome with his bright blue eyes and strong jawline, but Marilla could not see past the violence he exhibited towards his wife.

Marilla stood up and walked over to the bureau in the sitting room. When she returned, she placed a pack of cigarettes on the table and took two out. Balancing one on her bottom lip, she lit her lighter and then the cigarette, holding it between her two fingers she sucked briefly to get the tobacco to glow. This first one she delicately plucked from her mouth and placed in Rachel's. Rachel lopsidedly smiled her thanks and said thickly, "Thomas doesn't approve you know." To which Marilla replied with no more than a raised eyebrow as if to say, good, as she repeated the action for herself. Rachel enjoyed the warm glow of the nicotine as it traced down to her lungs then the usual slight headiness. She relaxed imperceptibly and sighed as the smoke escaped, closing her eyes for a moment. Marilla always knew just how to look after her. The smoke traced upwards in intricate swirling lines, eventually settling on the roof in a blue cloud where it bobbed about losing any form or structure.

Matthew came in for his afternoon tea a while later, he'd seen Rachel's twin-tone blue dodge parked in the driveway so he was not surprised to find his sister and Rachel sitting in a haze of blue smoke, the cigarette pack between them, dregs of coffee in cups and the table littered with cake crumbs. They were roaring with laughter about something but he was sad to see Rachel's battered state. Matthew would no more hit a woman than knowingly hurt a wounded animal. In fact, at times Rachel reminded him of a trapped animal. He'd witnessed her journey over the years. He and Marilla often spoke about it at night after she left. "Why won't she just leave?" Matthew repeatedly asked shaking his head. Marilla glanced up at him, her blue eyes sparking in the bright light, "you know she's trapped. If leaves him, she'll lose those children."


	2. Trapped

Thomas Lynde was a proud man. Proud of his farm, proud of his status in the community. He examined himself in the mirror one warm morning still wet from the shower, a fresh white towel around his waist. The sharp delineation of his tan made him smile; the pure white of his shoulders contrasted with his mahogany brown arms. As he did every morning, he tensed his biceps admiringly, even in middle age he believed he cut a fine figure of a man. He dunked his shaving brush in the soapy slurry and lathered up. The razor felt nice and sharp across his dark whiskers, drawing the razor across his cheek he enjoyed the sensation of the slick blade across his skin. Stroke, rinse, stroke, rinse. Sometimes he had Rach shave him though she shook so hard he feared for his life sometimes, stupid fat cow. He had to take it a bit more slowly around his upper lip, but otherwise he shaved in quick brisk strokes, rinsing his face off with a splash of cold water and wiping it all over with a clean cloth afterwards. At least the cloth was supposed to be clean, he sniffed it each morning to be sure. It was one of Rach's jobs each day to ensure it met his standards. It wasn't too much to ask surely, a man liked to have things just so. Sniff, sniff sniff, yes he supposed it was alright. Just as well…

It was exhausting keeping Rach in line. Still as head of the household it was just one of his many responsibilities. He examined his knuckles, flexing the stiffness out. Just the other day he had had to chastise Rach when he'd found finger prints smeared on the living room glass. He had held her by her hair scrunched close to her head and forced her to her knees commanding her to pray for forgiveness not from him of course, but from the Lord. Didn't the Bible say Cleanliness was next to Godliness? Rach was as far from God as it was possible to be, it was his job to see that she repented. She was not quite as fallen as that harridan Marilla Cuthbert. He'd seen her in town recently, swaggering around, an unmarried woman had no right to be so conceited. Funny it was Rachel who was barren in the Bible no mention of any Marilla. He'd like to show Marilla who was boss. But he guessed her brother, timid Matthew might have something to say about that.

Rach wasn't his first choice of wife, truth to tell she wasn't his second or even third. What was it attracted women to men in uniform anyway? Surely farming was a noble profession too, someone had to feed the population. Rach caught his eye one day in a diner, her arm stretched out as she poured his coffee, with her tits hanging so far over the table he could see right down her cleavage. She wasn't pretty exactly with her thick set body, but she looked like she had good child-bearing hips. She'd been keen enough when he took her in the alleyway behind the diner. But shit if she didn't get pregnant. He could have walked away, probably should have walked away. But she trapped him, the bitch. He wasn't even that religious back then, but well he wanted a wife and Rachel Lynde was as good as anyone he guessed and after all she was carrying his baby. They got married shortly after, while she could still fit in a dress. Her parents sitting in the registry office looking on, his mother in law wearing her sad excuse for a best hat. He wanted Harmon Andrews for a best man, but Harmon was off to war fighting for king and country, gaining all the honour; while Thomas languished at home, sowing crops, forgotten.

He gave himself a quick look in the mirror and satisfied went back to the bedroom to get dressed. His clothes were neatly laid out on the bed, his wife-beater, shirt and trousers all looked fine, but his socks. Shit they were still rolled up unironed. Dressing quickly, he strode out into the kitchen to confront Rach with them. "What do you call this?" he said aggressively.  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Thomas. I ran out of time. I thought you'd be cross if I didn't get your breakfast on," she staggered as he backhanded her. He watched her fall impassively then added, "don't let it happen again." Sitting down he lit a cigarette and waited while she got herself off the floor and turned to ladle some oatmeal into his bowl. "Wash your hands, Rach," he commanded. "You've been crawling around on that filthy floor you don't want to make me sick do ya?"

"No, of course not," she said.

"Of course not," he put on a falsetto voice to mimic her. Shit, she disgusted him.

*/*/*

How excited Rachel had been to attract the notice of such a handsome man as Thomas Lynde. She'd seen him from afar, noticing his strong jawline and his bright blue eyes which flashed so handsomely in her direction on occasion, though not at her she expected. Short, overweight and homely, Rachel never imagined she'd find such a striking suitor. They'd chatted that day in the diner as she served him his coffee. She'd watched his Adam's apple bounce as he swallowed it down in a few long gulps, thinking how handsome he was. It was true she flirted with him, answering his comments somewhat cheekily. He'd grabbed her forearm and dragged her out to the laneway behind the diner. She'd giggled with her friends about losing her virginity and to be honest she'd hoped it would be in more salubrious circumstances, but there was something terribly exciting about it nevertheless; to feel the rush of passion overtake them and to have him thrusting at her so urgently as the rough wall dug into her back.

If only it hadn't turned out that she was quite so fertile; when her monthly never arrived she worried. It became apparent a few months later that their quickie down the back of the alley had been more than a bit of fun. She told him as soon as she knew and cried when he swore. She knew that he resented her for it, for falling pregnant as if it were all her fault. Her parents were furious telling her they would disown her if she did not marry the boy. The next thing she knew Rachel was standing in the registry office, their parents' faces firm and unyielding, her best friend Marilla by her side offering support; facing her husband to be. His bright eyes no longer looked as friendly, but the baby kicked at that moment and she knew she had no choice. Perhaps married life would not be so bad?

Unfortunately, her hopes that day were not born out by reality. Their wedding night was a far cry from the way she imagined it when she and Marilla giggled together as school girls. "He'll put his thing in you, and you'll cry with the wonder," Marilla said, wishing for it to happen to her one day. As it turned out neither of them got their wish. Marilla quarrelled with her boyfriend and much to everyone's shock he left her. Rachel gingerly held her while she wept; she was in a different sort of pain that day. Marilla was so upset she didn't notice how Rachel held herself, how she winced when Marilla clutched her in her mental anguish. Something broke a little inside Rachel, she always thought she could rely on Marilla and when she did not appreciate how it was for her that day, Rachel realised that in the end she was on her own. If she were to survive, she had to do it herself.  
It was not easy. Thomas was a hard task master with exacting standards and if she did not meet them, she would soon know the pain of his fists. The first time he hit her, Rachel was more stunned than anything at first. That is until the pain reached her brain and she staggered away, clutching her side. At first, he made sure to only hit her where it could not be seen by prying eyes, but he became lazy and arrogant and soon took to hitting her wherever his fists landed, without care. As painful as his fists were, his words were almost as damaging. Broken ribs could heal, bruises faded but it was hard to ignore his constant belittling. He called her fat, stupid, lazy. He never called her by her full name, preferring the more childlike Rach which she hated. The one time she'd asked him not to he'd ground her face into the dirt, stamping on her fingers so that she found it hard to do the housework for a fortnight afterwards.

Perhaps the worst thing was that he refused to use contraception. Initially because he said he didn't like the feeling, but later when he found God; because it upset the covenant between him and the Lord. Rachel had been quite religious before he had found his mission as he liked to call it. But when all it seemed to mean was that he found a higher calling to bully her, she could no longer see the point. If this God granted him permission to hit her, what sort of God was he?

And oh Lord how fertile a couple they were. As soon as she'd give birth he'd clamber over her in the night sometimes before she even had a chance to leave hospital. Afterwards she'd creep out to the bathroom as silently as possible and wash herself down. She used to pray he would have an affair, if only to give her a break. But that was against the Bible, he would never do that. He'd blame her too when she fell pregnant as if it were all her fault. In the end, she thought it was her fault; he had her so bamboozled.

Ironically enough it was Marilla who introduced them to Church in a vain hope that he would repent his ways. Instead the Bible offered Thomas justification when it turned out he was rather more a first than second testament man. They went to the church in town, but the Minister's sermons were too tame so he took to sermonising at home. The whole family trapped kneeling down in the sitting room as he railed at them for their thoughtlessness; the way the devil entered their collective souls and how attentive they all had to be. If they were not, he would do it for them as the keeper of his flock. Rachel listened to him with bent head, he did not like them looking up at him in full flight, but when she did grab a glimpse his face would be red, as spittle flew from his mouth in his fervour. Sex took on a new urgency as if by that act he could drive the devil away from her womb.

She kept having babies, one after the other trapping her. Marilla would whisper to her to leave, but she knew he'd insist on keeping the children. She may not have loved the way they were created though she began to believe that it was a man's right, but she did love them. One saving grace was that he would never hit them. They were the fruit of his loins and to be protected, even if as their mother she was not. He was never loving towards them, but at least he was not violent either.  
Sometimes he would lull her into a false sense of security. Months would go by and he wouldn't react violently to any mistakes she made. She'd drop something and freeze expecting him to hit her, he'd laugh and joke that she looked so scared, "you look like a deer in the headlights, Rach", he'd say. "I love you so much. Hell, you don't deserve me." Then just as she started to relax around him, he'd be at her again. One time after almost a year of peace he hit her so hard she cracked a rib. The children grew up with his abuse and thought it was normal that fathers belittled or hit mothers, regardless they escaped the unhappy household as soon as they got the chance.

Walking out to the kitchen Thomas scowled as he waited while Rach served his bacon and eggs, he lifted his limp bacon with his fork, and muttered, "how many times?" How he hated the way Rach's body had turned to fat, she jiggled next to him now. The children sat at the table waiting for him to say grace, then silently they commenced to eat. The only sound the clinking of knives and forks against plates. Thomas despised talking at the breakfast table, he was not a morning person.

Fat cow he called her it often enough. Rachel looked at the bag of chips in grocery store aisle. Fat cow. She glanced down at herself, she wasn't that big, was she? Fat cow. If he wanted a fat cow, she could be that for him. Sitting in the truck a few minutes later she enjoyed the delicious salty crispness of the first chip as she crunched it between her teeth, ate the next daintily too. Then took a handful and smashed the whole lot in her mouth, a swig of coke to wash it all down. The packet was empty all too soon, dessert was a chocolate bar she ate in two bites, creamy chocolate smearing her lips. She felt full, a bit sick even but in control. Housekeeping money was frugal, but now Rachel made sure she looked after herself. Thomas noticed her expanding waistline eventually and bought a set of scales to mock her. Perversely, despite his weekly beatings Rachel felt in control as if it were she who was calling the shots. A strange feeling came over her when he sunk his fists into her soft stomach, a little mantra in her head, control, control, I'm in control. Her growing layer of fat her suit of armour.

*/*/*

"When did it start?"

They were sitting side by side on the rug one winter's day in the Green Gables sitting room, the snow drifted up against the side of the house. Marilla had lit a fire and the room was nice and cosy. Rachel shot a look at Marilla in amazement, did she really not know? "Well I suppose the first time we met but I was so naive I took his violence for passion. I was upset you know," she said changing the subject abruptly.

"Upset when?" Marilla said wonderingly. There were so many occasions.

"With you," whispered Rachel. This took a great deal of courage, if she lost Marilla she could lose everything.

"Oh, my dear when?"

"That time you, you and John broke up."

"Why?" Marilla was mystified.

"It's nothing," Rachel looked into the middle distance unable to stop the tears as the memory came flooding back.

"No look at me, why? What did I do? That time is a bit of a blur to me."

Rachel couldn't look her in the eye. This was hard, she wasn't used to defending herself. Very quietly she whispered so low Marilla had to strain to hear her, "you were hurting but I was hurting too." She paused, sighed as Marilla waited and continued her voice quavering, "you didn't even notice me," it was too much, Rachel broke down in sobs, tears and snot streaming down her face. 

Marilla gently gathered her in her arms, Rachel was almost always bruised somewhere. She didn't speak, didn't try to defend her actions. If she had hurt poor Rachel she was abjectly sorry. They sat there on the rug together for what felt like a long time; Rachel resting her head in Marilla's lap not asleep eyes open, just - away somewhere safe for a time. The clock struck the hour and as the last notes died away Rachel came to with a start. "Oh no. Nonono," she clambered to her feet and rushed out. There would be hell to pay, quite literally hell, if dinner were not on the table by 6.30. Marilla watched her go sadly, wishing there were more she could do to help. She did not see Rachel for some time, and when she emerged again Marilla asked no questions, Rachel would tell her when she felt strong enough. They continued where they left off, no mention of their lost weeks.

*/*/*

Marilla rushed over one day in '68 brandishing a newspaper. "Look look," she cried stabbing the paper with her forefinger. "You can leave anytime you want, they've seen sense finally, no fault divorce. Rachel you could you know."

Rachel looked jubilant for a second until reality caught up with her. "No. No I can't."

"But there's nothing stopping you, even the law's on your side." Rachel tenderly lowered herself onto the kitchen chair wincing when she reached the seat the last night had been rough. Breathlessly she panted through her teeth, "can you fetch the tea Marilla?" Marilla put the case to Rachel once again, calmly pointing out her argument.

The front door slammed and Thomas' stout boots could be heard stomping into the house. Rachel was up in a flash bustling in the kitchen to get him his afternoon tea, though she tried to hide it she was unable to mask the pain. "What are you snivelling about, Rach?" Marilla gave an involuntary shiver as she watched him spin Rachel around smacking a rough kiss on her lips, forcing her mouth open and groping her. Rachel gave a short scream when he got too brutal. Marilla cleared her throat but it was some moments before Thomas stopped his attack turning around eventually and snarling, "what are you looking at, you old bitch. You want some?" He laughed evilly and made a derogatory sign, "you prefer this don't you, not..." and he thrust his waist forward in a jerking motion towards her.

"I'll take my leave Rachel," said Marilla coolly, ignoring Thomas completely. The man was not worth her breath.

"What's she on about?" Thomas said in a quiet voice which made the hair on Rachel's neck stand up.

"Oh, she was just telling me how Anne was going at school," Rachel lied easily.

"The little red-haired witch," said Thomas evilly. "Well where's my cake, Rach?"

*/*/*

It was when he turned his attention away that something finally snapped in down-beaten Rachel. She was older now, and barren he complained; as if a woman could keep bearing children for all her years. He forgot that unlike a man a woman changed along the way. She caught him looking at their youngest daughter Lucy one day, the last one left at home; his hard-on evident as it strained under his tight trousers. Rachel looked at him sternly for once in his life, he looked sheepish initially before snarling, "what you looking at?" At least he did look away momentarily, even if he assaulted Rachel bed that night as brutal as ever. Rachel didn't enjoy it, she never enjoyed it, but it did keep her Lucy safe, so it was more than worth it.  
The problem was she couldn't stay home all the time and Thomas had taken to sending her out on wild errands, anything to get her away from the place. One day she came home from the store, legs of lamb had been on sale, they would all enjoy a nice roast she thought. The kitchen was quiet as she placed the lamb in a dish and started chopping the potatoes. From the back of the house she thought she heard a noise, putting the knife down and wiping her hands on her apron she made her way through the house to Lucy's bedroom. From there the distinct sound of sobbing could be heard through the door. She knocked gently and opened the door. "Daddy," was all Lucy had to say, and Rachel headed out to find him unsure of what to do.

Thomas was in the kitchen looking at the meat on the counter. "You know I'm not much of a fan of lamb," he said to her lowly. He should have been in a good mood, she thought. Maybe his conscience got the better of him. But no, he brought his two hands firmly down on the cream Formica countertop; the smack so loud she was sure he must have hurt himself by mistake. He turned to her then, his face red and full of anger.

Rachel couldn't take it anymore, "you don't like it?" She screamed at him, "then you don't have to eat it" and with that she grabbed the lamb and swung it at him the wet meat meeting his jaw with a dull thwack. He staggered, and went down on one knee, stunned in more ways than one. "Whaa?" For such an eloquent man it was a shame really that whaa was his last word Rachel thought later, for before he had a chance to say anything more, Rachel swung it back and caught him on the temple. He was thrown sideways by the force and hit his head on the coffee table the glass breaking under his fall, but not before she heard the slight click of his neck breaking, though he was already dead by then.


	3. Hear Me Roar

Hear Me Roar

Once again Marilla was knitting, Matthew out in the fields. Anne had called the night before, sharing news of good results and her busy social life. Marilla was listening to the radio with half an ear, Ridge had left Geraldine once he had learnt about her infidelity; and thinking about her darling girl. So engrossed was she that she was stunned to find Rachel shaking her by the shoulder. She hadn't heard the familiar rattle of Rachel's engine because for once Rachel had driven Thomas' truck. "Marilla, MariLLA," her tone rising. "Oh Marilla, I've gone and done it now."  
"Sit down and catch your breath, Rachel. What have you done?"

Rachel panted and collapsed into the armchair, the cushions giving under her weight. She panted, catching her breath, "I've only gone and killed him."

Marilla's heart leapt, "killed who?"

Rachel looked up at her, unable to say the name out loud instead moving her lips but not forcing any air through them, "Thomas."

Marilla's eyes widened and her mouth gaped open as her hand patted her chest, "you killed Thomas? Is that what you are saying?"

Rachel nodded slowly, definitely, cautiously then said, "dead as a doornail. I hit him with a leg of lamb." Marilla sat there stunned for a half a beat before she leapt to her feet knitting flying off in a cloud of wool and needles, the ball of yarn rolling away under the couch.

Rachel gave her a lift back to Lynde Hollow, Marilla admired Thomas's new Chevy, "nice car." Rachel just glanced at her with raised eyebrows. 

Thomas was lying motionless on the floor surrounded by shattered glass, his neck at an unnatural angle "Have you checked him?" Marilla asked Rachel, unable to tear her eyes away from the man in case he sprang back to life again.

Rachel turned to her, "checked? You don't think he could still be …?" her blood ran cold, there could be no worse outcome than he might still be alive. To her relief, Marilla crouched down and bent over the body to check his artery with her fingers, making sure to leave her thumb out of it. She looked back up at Rachel in relief, "nothing." 'Rachel let go of a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"Right I'll leave, you ring the police. You'll need an alibi say you came up to visit me looking for something."

"Dripping. I needed some for the roast." Rachel turned and regarded the meat on the floor. "Good gracious, the lamb," she picked it up.  
"Yes, that's perfect. And when you came home you found Thomas sprawled out on the floor and called the police. The beauty of it is you have the perfect alibi." Marilla took the leg out of Rachel's hands, ran it under the tap to get the dirt off and popped it back in the pan surrounding it with the potatoes. Turning the oven on she shoved the dish in as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Dusting her hands off she looked at her friend. "Think you can do it?"

Rachel nodded hesitantly at first, then more confidently, "yes," she swallowed hard. "I can do it."

"Remember you are a grieving widow, lamenting your darling husband."

"Darling husband?" scoffed Rachel. Marilla merely raised her eyebrow, Rachel looked up at her and replied with more force, "yes, my darling husband."

Marilla grabbed her by the shoulders, "you must do it!" Rachel sighed as she nodded.

Rachel waited until Marilla had walked out of sight then turned to the telephone on the kitchen wall. Shaking she fumbled as she dialled the numbers 911. Then with a quavering voice she informed the operator that she had found her husband dead on the living room floor; yes, she was pretty sure he was dead, and could they come quickly." She made her way up to Lucy's bedroom, moving a stray hair off her daughter’s forehead and softly kissing her she gently told Lucy her father was dead. Lucy asked what she should do. Rachel didn’t want to upset her, so she told her to stay upstairs for a while. 

What seemed like ages later, but which in fact was not long at all; two men knocked on her door. One dressed in a policeman's uniform, the other plain clothed. Constable Vigo and Detective Rafferty, they said their names were, but Rachel hardly heard them. She led them through the house to the kitchenette and pointed at Thomas's body laid out on the floor, his blood mixed with the shattered glass tabletop.  
The policemen got to work; minding the glass the detective crouched down to check for a pulse. He glanced up at the constable shaking his head, "dead."

"Oh," Rachel felt now would be a good time to sink to the floor in tears. The thought that he might still be alive was enough to bring tears to her eyes and she used that to good effect, breaking down in somewhat hysterical cries. Rafferty looked up at Vigo and nodded. Vigo took Rachel by the arm and led her into the sitting room away from the body. Rachel kept up her act, wailing and incoherently berating herself while the constable placated her. Rafferty called the local doctor, quickly apprising him of the situation and asking him to come and lend a hand. They needed someone to look after the bereaved and to sign the death warrant. 

The roast was smelling delicious by the time the doctor arrived, he commented on it when he entered, reminding Rachel that she wanted it eaten. "Gentlemen, I do feel sorry for you working so late. You'll miss your dinner."

Rafferty looked at his watch, "mm, oh well it happens often enough. My wife will keep my supper warm." A distinct rumble emanated from his stomach.

"Look it's silly. I have this delicious roast here and I must admit I couldn't eat a thing, but I hate to see it go to waste."

"Oh no I couldn't Mrs Lynde."

"Don't be silly, I'll have to throw it out otherwise and I just hate the waste."

"Well…" He was wavering, he knew it and Rachel knew it.

"Then it's settled," she was relentless and after all she did hate to see it go uneaten but there was no way she was eating it. It was easy enough to feign a lack of hunger, though in fact she was starving, but there was something about killing your husband that put your off your tea. 

"Another slice, Detective?"

"Mm, Mrs Lynde, are you sure you can spare it? It's delicious, so tender and juicy. I wish my wife cooked so well. Your husband is," his gaze flickered down to the floor where the body lay under the sheet and corrected himself, "was - a lucky man."

"That's fine, we have plenty. Thomas had such a hearty appetite," Rachel wiped a pretend tear from her eye with the corner of her apron. "More potatoes too?"

*/*/* 

"Mrs Lynde, let's go through it again, you say you were out visiting?"

The first time she had made the statement Detective Rafferty had looked up at his colleague Vigo with a raised eyebrow. Vigo set off up the lane to check her alibi. Sure, enough Marilla agreed that Rachel had visited that afternoon and she had lent her a cup of dripping for the roast. When he had finished the interview, Marilla asked when she would be allowed to pop down. She was sure Rachel would be in shock and Lucy too of course. In a couple of hours Rafferty replied, adding that they just had to get Rachel's statement sorted and of course the forensic team had to examine the crime scene.

"Who was that?" Matthew asked as he saw the stranger stride away, his coat flapping in the wind.

"Something terrible has happened," Marilla explained. "Apparently Thomas Lynde died. That was Constable Vigo from the Bright River police." Matthew looked at the cream trench coat disappearing down the lane and then back at his sister. "He died?" Matthew spat, creating a small dark red smudge on the ground, "well good riddance."

Over at Lynde Hollow, Rachel was describing her day to Detective Rafferty again. He sat on the sofa, alternating between scribbling things down and chewing the end of his pen. The object looked quite abused, Rachel thought absentmindedly. She knew how it felt. Vigo handed Rachel a cup of tea then went to have a quiet word with Dr Hegwig.

Rachel turned at the gentle knock on the door, "now Mrs Lynde, I think you should have a little lie down," ordered Dr Hegwig gently.  
"There's no need, I'm fine," Rachel's words belied her pallor which was distinctly washed out and in fact if she stopped to think she was exhausted. She let herself be led to her bed. Dr Hedwig pulled back the covers and helped her lie down, removing her shoes. "I'm just going to give you a little something to help you sleep Mrs Lynde, and I'll give a dose to Lucy as well." Rachel murmured a protest, but truth to tell she was rather wound up, despite her exhaustion. The doctor slipped a needle into her vein and Rachel felt the lassitude creep over her as the drug did its work. The doctor watched as her body went slack and after tucking the blankets around her, walked out.

"How does she seem, doc?" Vigo enquired.

"She's in shock, not surprisingly. You don't get much sense out of them at this stage. Does she have an alibi?"

"Yes, she was out visiting, she'd run out of dripping for the roast." Vigo patted his stomach and burped slightly. "Mm that lamb was delicious. Better than I could expect at home. The missus will be jealous."

"How much longer will you be here?"

"A few hours I expect. What about you Doc?"

"I'll keep an eye on them both. I never like to sedate anyone and just leave them." He looked at his watch. "When are you taking the body?"

"It'll be a while; the forensic guys are on their way from Charlottetown."

"Any leads?"

"Not yet. I mean it was probably something with a handle to it, to give it momentum on the swing." He burped again, "pardon me. Anyway, must get on, I'll leave you to it." He nodded at the doctor and made his way back to the living room.

*/*/*

"Um, now Mr Lynde did your parents enjoy a happy marriage?" Rafferty balanced a cup of coffee on one knee and his writing pad on another, but after a moment moved the cup to the conveniently placed side table.

"I think on the whole they did, yes. I mean Mum can be a bit silly sometimes and Dad had to correct her," John replied. 

"What do you mean silly?"

"Oh, just forgetting how he liked his bacon, he was very particular about his breakfasts."

"And how would he react if his, um, bacon was cooked incorrectly?" Detective Rafferty couldn't believe he was asking this as if it were a perfectly rational question; still if he'd learnt anything in the police force it was that folks were odd.

"Oh, he'd just tell her to cook it more, I guess." John knew it sounded lame as soon as he said it, but he could remember countless mornings where the tone of the day was set by the limpness of his father’s bacon. 

"Any other examples?"

"Nothing springs to mind, but she was a bit unpredictable in public you know, I suppose women are just like that."

"Mm," Detective Rafferty privately agreed with him there. He flicked through his notebook, "and issues with children? I mean ten is a lot of kids in this day and age."

John shuffled around in his chair he didn't like to think of his folks doing that, even now. "Mum just loved babies. She's a bit puerile herself you know, really relates to toddlers. She's a wonderful hands-on grandmother now."

Rafferty scribbled down some more notes his pencil nearly worn down to the stub. Later he and Vigo compared notes. "The kids say they were happy enough, Mrs Lynde is a rather simple creature by their account, just a home maker," Rafferty added dismissively. "Certainly not the type to murder her husband."

*/*/*

Lucy Lynde didn't know what to think. She half suspected that her mother had killed her father, though when she tentatively questioned her one night a few days later, Rachel had vehemently denied it, reminding her that it was a terrible sin. Lucy had been sitting on the floor idly spinning the TV knob, looking for a show when she asked her mother the question, finding it easier to broach the subject facing away from her.

Her mother's reaction had almost been too fast as though she had been expecting the question and had a ready, well-rehearsed answer. Still Lucy never liked her father all that much, she disagreed with the way he bullied her mother. Somehow her siblings just accepted it, believing that their mother was a bit hopeless. As far as Lucy could see her mother did the best she could. She never had enough house-keeping money, had too many children, and no support at home. Anyway, if her mother had killed her father, though Lucy couldn't work out how, she fully supported her. She didn't like the way Daddy had looked at her recently and preferred not to be in the same room as him, alone. His last week his unsettling behaviour had intensified and that last day she had had to run to her room and lock the door. Just as well because he had banged on the door ordering her to let him in. Lucy had curled up in her bed, hoping that the lock would hold. She believed it was only the sound of Rachel's truck with its usual rattle coming up the drive that eventually sent him away.

There had been a pause then, Daddy disappeared and eventually her mother came to check on her. Lucy was upset crying and after she told her mother that her father had scared her, her mother disappeared too. Lucy figured she'd fallen asleep, for when she came to a while later the sun had set.

*/*/*

The memorial service was a sombre affair. The weather had been fine for a few days, but dark thunderous clouds threatened on the horizon and a chill wind blew. Mourners' cars spilled out of the small car park, so that the mood was one of frustration rather than reverence. Still they tried to settle their nerves on the walk up to the church to hide their frustration from the grieving Lynde family.

Rachel stood flanked by her children looking small between their broad shoulders. As her neighbours and friends whispered their condolences, she schooled her face to hide her consummate delight that she had finally got rid of him. John put one arm around her comfortingly he thought; possessively to her mind. She did not wish to exchange one bully for another, and John had already voiced some disquieting comments about her future.

When they stood to sing the hymn, Rachel was pleased to hear Marilla's voice right behind her, Anne's sweeter tone beside her mother. She longed to reach out to hold her by the hand, but now was not the time. "My Dad, Thomas Rupert Lynde was the best of men." John stood at the lectern, legs firmly planted, hands gripping the top as if afraid he might fall. "A proud man, a proud father, He was born…" Rachel's attention drifted away. If all John was going to do was wax lyrical about his father, Rachel had better things to think about. In truth this service was a hypocritical torture to be endured to keep up appearances. Rachel was anything but the mourning wife, but no one apart from Marilla knew, no one apart from Marilla could know.

"Together he and our mother Rachel, created a loving, ahem…" John paused to clear his throat, "loving." He flourished a large white handkerchief and blew his noise before regaining his composure, not noticing the congregation's glances. "Um, loving family, built on trust and respect." Rachel had to look down at that, he really was going too far now. Around her she could feel people shuffling, shifting their position. The village may not have known that Thomas was violent towards her, but they knew that he wasn't exactly an exemplary family man.

The shockwave down her arms when the lamb connected with his chin, Thomas' last word - whaa and that slight click as he broke his neck was playing on her mind; spooling like a film over and over. If Rachel seemed distant to anyone this was the reason why; rather than abject grief. Yes, she was relieved, but she was also in shock. At least no one expected much from her at this time. Grieving widows were allowed to let their children take over if they could. If Rachel had to get up and talk, she was deathly afraid that role would be too difficult to maintain; she was constantly on her toes, praying laughter might not spill out.

It had not been easy to keep up the act to the police. Luckily, they regarded the giggle which bubbled out unconsciously when they asked her if they had enjoyed a happy marriage, as a hysterical reaction, rather than something more sinister.

*/*/*

"How do you think Mother seems?" John and Andrew Lynde had met in a pub in Charlottetown one evening a few weeks later to discuss family matters. As the two oldest sons they felt a new familial responsibility after their father's brutal murder. The place was busy, but they found a small high table to rest their beers on, the carpet sticky under their feet.

"Well she's a bit hysterical like always isn't she. I mean she's never been completely reliable, but I think she's going a bit off the rails now."

"I wish she wouldn't spend so much time with old Marilla up the road. She can't be a good influence."

"Hm, do you think she should move in with one of us? Maybe she needs a bit of stability, especially now that Lucy is leaving home."

"And thank goodness, I've been a bit worried about poor Lucy, stuck up there her on her own." The brothers drank their beers and smiled at each other, pleased to be on the same page. "Another?" John asked. Andrew checked his watch, "yep, got plenty of time. Martha will be home feeding the kids," he laughed jovially. "Know where I'd rather be." John nodded, he felt exactly the same way. "So, Mother?" he said when he returned with the beers.

"Well I don't want to stir the pot shall we see how she fares on her own. Might just be a matter of time. Surely between the lot of us, we can keep an eye on her." Andrew was one of those men who recognised a problem but preferred to leave the solving of it up others, in the hopes that it would just go away on its own without putting him out.

"Mm, I guess so…" John paused.

"Thinking about Dad?" Andrew asked.

"Yup, poor old Dad. I just don't understand it. It was such a terrible way for him to go, defending the house like that. Typical though, huh. He would've never let an intruder in. I told Mother to lock the doors from now on. I wonder if she's doing it yet."

"Yeah, I told her too. It's not safe, especially with two defenceless women at home on their own, can't be too careful. Times are a'changing, don't they say and not for the better."

"Any word from the police? Have they worked out what the murder weapon could be?"

"Nope, they're mystified. Got no bloody clue. They keep saying if only they knew, they'd have a better hope of finding the bastard."

*/*/*

"Mother, we've been talking."

"Who's we"

"Oh just a few of us," said Eliza. "We think you're not coping, Mother. The plan is that we sell the old place and you can move in with us."

"Us?" Rachel asked suspiciously.

"We'll each take a turn so no one has too much work to do."

Rachel was almost too angry to speak, she stood by the kitchen wall gripping the telephone receiver so tight her knuckles were white.

"They're going to sell the house," she spat at Marilla later that afternoon and I'm to be shunted around from house to house, nowhere to call my own. So, no one has too much work to do looking after me."

Marilla's eyes opened wide, "oh."

"Yes, they've organised for a realtor to come by to appraise the property. Say they need the money."

"Well they won't get much will they, split ten ways."

"No, they won't, that's a pity," Rachel winked, and Marilla spluttered with laughter.

"How about you sell the house and keep the proceeds? How would that be?"

"Oh, I couldn't. I mean I couldn't, could I? I mean." Rachel stopped, thinking it through. She looked up at Marilla who was leaning back in her chair legs crossed.

"Could I? I could couldn't I. I mean they'd be angry with me but…"

"What's stopping you? Find your own realtor. Jump the gun on them."

"Marilla Cuthbert you will not be popular."

Marilla winked and stubbed her cigarette out in the conveniently placed ashtray Matthew had purchased recently. The thing was high on a pedestal at just the right height, so Marilla no longer had to lean down to the coffee table to butt out, "you may be surprised to know Rachel, that keeping in your greedy children's good books is not high on my agenda."

*/*/*

A/N Yes, it's a bit of a trope isn't it? But it's a story I've always loved and what a perfect crime. The original was Roald Dahl's Lamb to the Slaughter 1953, you can even find really dated version of it on YouTube.

The title is a line from an Australian feminist anthem by Helen Reddy, I Am Woman released in 1971.


	4. Being of Sound Mind

"Ahem," Mr Smith, Partner at Smith, Black and Jones Lawyers cleared his throat. A thin, balding somewhat weedy man he felt the clearing of this throat and a forced deep voice leant gravitas to the proceedings, especially when faced with these strapping farmers. "We are here to hear the reading of the last will and testament of Mr Thomas Lynde formerly of Avonlea, Prince Edward Island..."  
The police investigation came up empty. No murder weapon was ever found or anyone with a motive. Thomas Lynde was not necessarily the most popular man in town, but he had no discernible enemies either. Eventually it was filed as a cold case and the authorities let the will be disclosed. 

John Lynde leant back in his chair confident of how this would all play out. As eldest son he fully expected the property would be left to him; he planned to sell it, the money would come in very useful. Of course, he expected his siblings would be upset; but really, they had no say in the matter. He'd listened to their conversations prior with contempt, they should have realised how this would go. He would get the bulk of the estate and they would get the remainder split between them. He smirked to himself; whatever was left wouldn't go far between the nine others. He did not factor his mother into his musings at all. His father had impressed upon him, in words and deeds how much of a waste of space she was. He did not pay Mr Smith much mind as he read through the preamble, yada yada yada, get on with it, he thought impatiently.  
"Being of sound mind I bequeath the farm, the house, its fittings and all chattels to my eldest son John Lynde to do with as he pleases."

There was a blast of noise at that as John's siblings reacted noisily. It was a miscarriage of justice; they deserved that money. No one, apart from Lucy thought of their mother even once. Rachel sat back resignedly; her arms crossed. She had hoped that maybe, just for once... But no of course that was foolish, since when had Thomas nursed a generous thought towards her? She could feel a sob rising but swallowed it down. She refused to appear upset in their presence. Still she made sure not to look at Lucy, she was bound to look at her with pity and that would be too hard to take.

Rachel left the solicitor's office and drove homewards, though she couldn't quite face it at the last minute and drove the extra half mile up the lane to Green Gables.

"You'll contest it, won't you?" was Marilla's immediate response as she hugged Rachel tightly. "You're the widow, you are entitled, you know."  
"Maybe this is retribution?" said Rachel defeatedly, the familiar feeling of meat on skull tracing down her arm.

"Stuff and nonsense. That money is yours. I'll take you down to see the lawyer in the morning."

"Eh?" John must have misheard, at this second reading it sounded almost as if the law had taken the money from him and given it all to the waste of space after all. Around him the startled exclamations of his siblings alerted him to the fact that perhaps he had heard alright after all. "No, no!" blood rushed to his face in indignation when he jumped to his feet shouting with the rest of them. Rachel sat back in some shock herself. She smiled, content to let her children rage around her calling out about the iniquitousness of the situation and how it wasn't fair. She planned to sell the place. If they behaved, she would give them all a small amount, not too much. She had her own needs after all.  
She started for home in his car. She always thought of it as his, maybe it was time to trade it in for something nice? She didn't need such a big car; it was unwieldy and hard to park. Instead of turning down the road to home, she made an abrupt left-hand turn and headed out to the auto dealership instead.

Marilla was surprised to see an unknown obviously brand-new green Volvo turn into their driveway; red gravel spraying out under the tyres as it came to a sudden stop. Rachel bounded out waving two bottles of champagne. "Nice car," said Marilla admiringly.  
"I know, I know. I traded his old thing in for this,” she smacked the hood lightly. “I couldn't help thinking of it as his car. This one is mine, all mine. I won I got the money!" Rachel caught hold of Marilla's waist and twirled her around. "Here champagne, darling. I definitely have some celebrating to do." 

They laughed when the cork popped, and Rachel messily poured the champagne into two glasses laughing when the bubbles overflowed. Marilla caught up in Rachel's infectious elation laughed alongside her. She sipped and sneezed when some went up her nose.  
"You should have heard the children oh they were spitting mad. John was apoplectic," Rachel laughed as she took another slurp of the champagne, coughing when she choked slightly. "I thought he was going to have a stroke, arrogant little…" she laughed again at the memory. "Well he got what he deserved, which is to say almost nothing, they all get $5,000. I think I might rewrite my will and leave it all to the cat’s home. 

“What about Lucy?”

“Well of course I will look after my darling Lucy. She has always been on my side. Oh, I was so relieved,” she sighed. “I can’t fathom it, but I’m happy, that’s what. I’m just so happy. And you Marilla, you have been with me all along.”

“You don’t think?” Marilla looked across at Rachel, concern furrowing her brow.

“What?”

“Well maybe buying the car might look a bit…,” she watched Rachel’s face carefully. “I don’t know it might look a bit like you revelling in his death.”

“Piffle,” Rachel gesticulated with staccato jabs of her forefinger. “Look Marilla, I’ll tell you and I’ll tell anyone else who comments; in all my years I’ve never had a nice new car. My husband died in tragic circumstances, and now I feel I should be able to live a little. It’s not as though he left me anything in the will. It’s not as though I obviously did it for the money!” Rachel’s voice rose as she talked, getting more strident and upset. 

“Sh shh, I’m on your side remember,” Marilla put her palms forwards in a conciliatory manner. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me, I’m just commenting on how it looks to the neighbours.”

I don’t care about them, where’ve they been all these years?”

Marilla took a sip and watched as Rachel refilled her glass, more carefully this time. Suddenly without warning, Rachel swivelled around and kissed Marilla full on the lips. She leaned back and watched Marilla's reaction. Marilla was used to kisses, that was true; but she and Rachel had never been like that in all their years. She placed her two fingers wonderingly up to her lips to check that it had happened. Then watched again as Rachel took those fingers and kissed them tenderly. "You know I've been wanting to do that for decades. I wasn't sure I could though," she said sombre all of a sudden.

"You most certainly could have," Marilla replied "I have been wanting to kiss you too, but you were um, engaged."

"Engaged!" giggled Rachel. "That's a fine way to put it. More champagne? I want to get rollicking drunk. I feel I deserve it.”

"You're halfway there already, I reckon," Marilla replied, watching Rachel pull the foil off the bottle and ease the cork. They cheered when the cork popped. "Is there a nicer sound? I don't think so," said Rachel. She unsteadily poured another glass for them each and they sat down to plan how Rachel was going to spend the rest of the money; their words getting more slurred and the plans more outlandish as the alcohol slipped down.

Matthew found them surrounded by the detritus of a drunken afternoon singing dirty songs to each other. “Hi M-affew,” Rachel hiccuped waving her glass in the air. They had run out of champagne and had moved on to Marilla’s potent homemade redcurrant wine, a bit sloshed out onto her blouse and she ineffectually dabbed at it only managing to make the stain worse. Marilla giggled and lent over to suck the stuff out nearly falling off her chair in the process.

“I think maybe you ladies have had enough now,” Matthew said disapprovingly. The women frowned at each other and shook their heads exaggeratedly. 

“You old spoilsport,” Marilla complained with a burp.

“No he, he’s right. I should be going,” Rachel stumbled as she got to her feet. “Now where are my car keys?”

Oh no you don’t,” Matthew replied looking at Rachel as she gently swayed. “I’ll take you,” he took the car keys away from her. “Don’t want to wreck that nice car on your first day, do you?” Rachel complied and let him lead her out the door. Marilla waved bye bye suddenly feeling a bit unwell herself. 

Half an hour later Matthew found her passed out in bed, fully clothed. He covered her with a blanket and left to tidy the kitchen shaking his head. Really the two of them were mad.


	5. Under His Thumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marilla meets a new boyfriend.

It was his infectious laugh that first attracted Marilla to Jean Pouce when she was in her mid twenties. It was the sort of full-throated roar that made you feel he was fully invested. She heard it one July day at the grocery store and felt compelled to seek out the source. The guffaw originated from the mouth of a tall broad-shouldered young man with thick brown curly hair, his round face adorned with a goatee. Marilla could think of no way to interact with him, but when he turned up at her local cafe the next day and found himself unable to find a table Marilla invited him to sit at hers. She had been enjoying a quiet cup of coffee on her lunch break but was happy to share the space. "Thanks," said the stranger, "I'm Jean Pouce, pleased to meet you." His French accent sounded like warm melted chocolate.

"Marilla Cuthbert," Marilla introduced herself inwardly cringing because usually an introduction involved a tedious explanation of her name. To her relief he did not enquire. "So, what's good here?" Jean asked perusing the short menu.

"Um," fumbled Marilla, she had never met anyone quite like Jean. Shaking herself she came to, "the mac n cheese is quite nice."

"Hm, mac n cheese it is then, on your recommendation," Jean winked at Marilla while he beckoned to the waitress with one hand. He ordered the dish with a soda before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and fastidiously taking the wrapping off. He lit his cigarette with an ornate stainless-steel lighter, "want one?" he offered. Marilla did not smoke, but she wished to impress this exotic stranger. She nodded and tentatively took one from the proffered pack. Watching how Jean held his she copied his style, putting it in her mouth and leaning forward to the flame. Slowly she inhaled through the slender tube and coughed when it hit her lungs.

"So, what do you do for fun around here?" Jean drawled through a cloud of blue smoke.

"Um, well there's dances and stuff," Marilla said shyly, Avonlea was pretty quiet. She described drives over to the bigger towns to the movies or trips to the beach. As she was talking Jean's mac n cheese arrived and he ate it in small mouthfuls, the cheese oozing and trailing down from his fork. He took drags from his cigarette between bites until finally satisfied he leant back stubbing his cigarette out in the dregs. Marilla watched in fascination and mild horror. Her mother would not approve which naturally made Jean seem all the more alluring.

Marilla glanced at her watch, five to two. "Well I'm sorry but I have to go. Um, maybe I'll see you around?" she hated the hesitation she heard in her voice.

"Sure, Mary was it?"

Marilla swallowed, "Marilla."

"Oh yeah, sorry, Mar-illa." Jean dragged out the syllables, he smiled absent-mindedly at Marilla and reached for another cigarette.  
The afternoon lagged. Marilla had a book-keeping job at a local cider company, Apples for Apples. The work was tedious, but jobs were scarce in such a small town and Marilla knew she was lucky to have it. Usually her afternoons passed by quickly enough, people came and went exchanging gossip, as she tried to concentrate on her work, but the only thing Marilla heard today was Jean's infectious laugh echoing in her mind; she desperately wanted to know this man better.

"Have you been smoking?" her mother asked when she got home that afternoon.

*/*/*

She had a chance a week later when Jean strolled in to the office. He needed a job and he hoped he could find something to take his fancy. "Hey, it's my lunchtime saviour, Mary wasn't it?"

"Marilla," replied Marilla, somewhat hurt by his error.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry Marilla. I'll get it right one day, don't you worry." That 'one day' gave Marilla such a thrill, that meant they might keep in touch. "Oof, I've walked miles today, can I'ave a seat?"

Marilla had a pile of papers on her spare chair, but she hastily shoved them off and made space for Jean. "Water?" she offered.

"Merci, I'm parched." Jean had an unusual way of drinking with his tongue placed over the rim. She watched as he swallowed long gulps of water his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Once he had finished, he placed the empty glass on the desk rocked the chair onto its back legs and spread his legs apart. He wore very tight black jeans. Marilla had giggled with her colleagues when someone mentioned the way gentlemen dressed the other day. Jean dressed to the left it was plain to see.

"Tell me about Avonlea, it's a bit of a dump isn't it?" Marilla was torn. She wanted to defend her home, but she also wanted to impress this exotic stranger.

"It's alright, I guess," she said hesitatingly. "I've never lived anywhere else."

"What do you and your boyfriend get up to then?"

Marilla smiled, "no boyfriend. I mean I did have one a while ago." Several years ago, if truth be told. "But we split up," he dumped her.  
"So whaddaya do? What's your job?" Jean said as he rubbed his knee, licking his lips as he watched Marilla watch him.

Marilla dragged her eyes away from Jean's crotch "Um, I do the book-keeping. It's not that exciting but it helps pay the bills, you know."  
"When do you get off?" Jean asked, well aware of the double entendre.

"Oh, a couple of hours yet." Marilla replied breathlessly not noticing the double meaning. She was feeling all sorts of new things. Jean was beguiling with his tight pants, pink shirt with the top buttons undone and a loose tie.

"Might see ya later then, thanks for the water I was parched." Jean tipped his forefinger on his forehead at her and wandered out the door. Marilla couldn't help but crane her head past her desk to watch him saunter off casually. His jacket slung over his shoulder, boots clicking on the wooden floor.

Jean was waiting by his car when Marilla left the building after work. Marilla rushed up to him panting ever so slightly. Jean opened the door and watched as Marilla practically fell in. The car smelt of stale smoke, mouldy clothing and mouse poo but to Marilla it smelt of freedom. Jean walked around to the other side and climbed in. Putting the key in the ignition he asked, "so, we're we off to?"

"There's a new place in Bright River that has the most amazing milkshakes," she suggested. Jean looked at her quizzically. "Everyone says they're delicious," she added.

Jean shrugged his shoulders as he turned the key in the ignition, "alright, milkshakes it is then." The car started with a throaty roar and they sped off down the road. Jean wound his window down and Marilla followed suit, sticking her head out the window to feel the air rushing past, her eyes watering in the cold wind.

Jean patted his pockets down and swore, "shit, I'm out of money. Not much of a first date if you have to pay is it?"

"No that's fine," said Marilla digging down into the recesses of her handbag for some change. She felt deliriously happy to be sitting opposite a handsome man sipping a delicious milkshake in the booth by the window. It had been a long time between dates for Marilla Cuthbert.

*/*/*

"Jean Pouce," her mother frowned recalling her school-girl French. "Doesn't that mean?"

"Jean Thumb," Marilla replied. "Yes, it does. Please Mom, don't say anything to him. As the owner of an unusual name I know how annoying it is to have it brought up all the time."

Her mother spluttered, "but Jean Thumb, I mean it's practically Tom Thumb, is he short?" she giggled.

"No, he's a perfectly normal size, please don't make a thing of it Mom, I would be mortified."

"I promise we'll behave, won't we David?" Marilla's mother sent a sharp look at her husband. "And you know Matthew will be good." Matthew nodded over his coffee.

"Well hello Jean," Marilla's mother greeted the young man kindly. "Marilla's told us all about you."

Jean strode into their living room and looked around at the colourful couches, "have you got an ashtray?" he asked, holding his hand under his teetering cigarette ash.

"Of course," Marilla's mother dashed off to find an ashtray, no one in the family smoked, but she was sure she had something he could use. By the time she came back however she could see it was too late and there was a small dusting of ash on the carpet. "Sorry about that," Jean said. "It fell."

"No matter," said Mrs Cuthbert, though she hated the smell of cigarette smoke and was distressed that her carpet and room might now smell of it.

Jean got to his feet and walked over to the mantlepiece, he picked up a photo in a frame and looked at it intently, "is this Marilla?" he asked.  
"The day she turned fourteen," said Mrs Cuthbert proudly.

"Hm," said Jean looking at the photo of a gawky teenager. He put it back without further comment.

Jean took Marilla around to his apartment a few days later. She looked around his only room, he had a double bed, a chair and a full ashtray on the floor. Dirty takeaway containers were strewn around the kitchenette, Marilla couldn't stand it she started piling rubbish into his trashcan. "Is there a dishrag?" she asked rummaging around under the sink.

"Dunno?" Jean muttered, looking by his bed for a pack of cigarettes. He sat on the chair and watched her work; waiting til she emptied the ashtray before tapping more ash in it.

"How long is it since you washed these sheets?" Marilla called from the bedroom.

"No idea."

"Shall I wash them for you?"

"I can't ask you for that, it's too much work," he replied, hoping that she would.

"It's no bother." Marilla spent her Saturday stripping the bed and stuffing the sheets into the washing machine. When the thing made a groaning sound half an hour later and then came to a shuddering stop, she lifted the lid and found the sheets awash in dirty water. Not to be outdone and determined to please Jean; Marilla hauled the sheets out and placed them in a laundry basket. Water dripping down her shirt front on that chilly afternoon, she walked to the laundromat and put them in to finish the load; spending money she could ill afford. Finally, when the sheets were dry, she folded them and took them home.

The bed looked so lovely all made up and she knew the sheets were fresh but when Jean got home, he merely said, "oh, you didn't iron them? I do like a nice ironed sheet, don't you? There's just something so lovely about them when they're crisp." He glanced across at Marilla's crestfallen face. "Don't worry, it'll be fine. There's always next time. I'm not too much of a bother, am I? I hate to be a pain." He patted Marilla on the arm, "don't hate me for it, sweetie. I'm just an old stick in the mud when it comes to my bedding."

Marilla gave him a half-hearted smile and said, "no, it's fine. I completely understand. I can do better."

"That's the spirit gorgeous. Hey, I bought you a present. Do you want to see?"

"Ooh yes please, Jean. What is it?"

"Close your eyes and I'll give it to you." Marilla obediently closed her eyes, all hurt forgotten. Tenderly Jean placed an object into her outstretched hands. "You can open them now." Marilla opened her hands to find a broken locket.

"Oooh," she said wonderingly.

"I know it's broken. I couldn't afford anything else, but I have the other half here," Jean patted his chest. "When we are together it's whole, see?"

"Oh darling, it's gorgeous. I couldn't imagine anything more divine." Marilla gushed, leaning in for a kiss.

"Not now I'm exhausted, and I think I have a headache coming on," Jean pushed her away. "You can take care of yourself for a little while, can't you? Just don't slam the door on the way out." Marilla walked away fingering her half locket, thinking about how sweet he was. She touched her lips, he was such a lovely kisser she just wished they did it more often.

*/*/*

Marilla paid a visit to Rachel one afternoon, over the sounds of children squabbling, talk turned to Jean. Marilla showed Rachel her new locket, explaining that its broken state was actually a testament of their love. Rachel hesitated, the last thing she wanted to do was upset Marilla. She looked at the locket quizzically, to her it was nothing but cheap broken thing. "Marilla," Rachel said kindly. "Do you think he's right for you?"

Marilla looked across at her shocked, "Rachel, you just can't stand for me to be happy when you aren't. I just think that's so selfish of you. Not all men are like your Thomas you know. Jean is so sweet to me."

Rachel sat back, that wasn't what she meant at all. She just thought Marilla deserved better. The two women sat back looking at each other grumpily until Marilla took her leave. They did not see each other for a while.

*/*/*

One day the accounting manager at work told her he was retiring, "you know you could do this job with one hand tied behind your back, Marilla. You're such a boon to the business. I think you should apply."

Marilla told Jean but he was discouraging. "How long have you been there? How will you feel if you don't get it? I think you're better off where you are. There's no need to over-reach. No one likes an egotistical woman, you know." Marilla took his words to heart, but she was keen to apply. Jean would be so proud of her when she was successful.

As the day approached she grew more nervous, it had been a long time since she had been interviewed. Her parents encouraged her, reassuring her that she would be fine, after all she knew the business well. She did know the place backwards and had helped run the accounting team when her old manager was there. Really it should have been the simplest thing for her to get the job.

The interview took place in the boardroom. The place they usually all ate lunch together. She knew it well, but today it was too big and echoey. She sat at one side of the table and the interviewers, the general manager and the HR manager, both of whom she knew well, on the other side. The general manager did most of the talking. First, he described the role. Marilla knew what it entailed, but supposed he had to go through the motions for all candidates. "Where do you see yourself in five years' time?" Marilla had drifted off during his monologue, so unfortunately he had to clear his throat and repeat the question before she had a chance to answer. She fumbled over the answer, saying that she was very happy where she was. If that were the case, why was she applying for a better job?

Marilla didn't get the job. She sobbed into Jean's chest the afternoon she got the news having gone around to his place after work. He held her close and told her it was all for the best. "I mean you're good at your job aren't you. There's still new things to learn." he asked, feeling her hot tears through his shirt.

Jean was waiting for her in the car park after work a few days later. He looked excited, "Marilla, I have news!" he called to her as she approached. "Darling, you are looking at the newly minted Apples for Apples Accounting Manager. Won't it be fun, we'll be working together. You can be such a help to me," he giggled. "I mean you should have got it really you know the place much better than me."

Jean looked very smart on his first day in his new powder-blue suit and pink tie with pointed black shoes. He had asked Marilla to polish them for him the night before. She had knelt down to do as good a job as she could, pulling back after a while to show them to him. He'd pointed out a bit she'd somehow missed, and she did it over again, eager to please. Eventually they were polished to his satisfaction. She knelt down again to tie his laces for him and he took a step back to gaze at himself in the mirror, preening a little. Marilla leaned back on her knees to look up at him. He looked very handsome. "I scrub up okay, don't I? Say thanks for lending me the money to buy this suit, Marilla. I'll pay you back when I get my first pay-check, promise."

Marilla met him at the front door to the office the next morning and went to introduce him to the other staff. "Jean this is Pat, our secretary and this is Betty, our receptionist. This is our new accounting manager Jean Pouse." He nodded at the ladies. When Marilla lead him into his office, he shut the door firmly and told her to take a seat across his desk. "Marilla, I mean of course it's fine to call me Jean out of the office, I mean you're my girl and all. But I think here at work you, and the other ladies should call me M. Pouse. You can see how it looks, can't you? I'm in a position of authority, I need them to respect me."

Marilla nodded, of course it made perfect sense, "yes sir," she said. As she turned to leave the office Jean leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. "Bring me a cup of coffee, Marilla. Black, one sugar."


	6. Harvest Festival

Marilla and Jean's relationship grew more serious. It had been a long time between caresses for Marilla; not since she broke up with John Blythe had a man kissed her. Jean was particularly skilled in that endeavour; long long moments would pass as they passionately explored each other but Jean always tried for more. His hands snaked around her torso, attempting to infiltrate her girdle. "Mmf no," Marilla would break apart when he grew too insistent.

"C'mon, Marilla. I want you, I need you," he would implore. But she was insistent, no premarital sex. "You're so old fashioned," he say pouting.

"Maybe I am, but nice girls don't do it without a ring on their finger." Marilla had seen what had happened to her friend Rachel. One fling got her stuck with the detestable Thomas Lydne. She very much did not want that to happen to her, even if Jean was nothing like Thomas.

"Marilla, could you prepare this financial report for me. I mean I could do it…"

"Of course, M. Pouse." Marilla still hated calling him monsieur at work, it seemed wrong somehow, when she knew him so well; but he insisted and frowned when she slipped up. He had spoken to her when they were out the other day. He had pulled away from their kissing session on a park bench to admonish her. Her lips still bruised from his kisses, "it's not a good look. You are my subordinate, you need to show our colleagues you respect me, you understand don't you sweetheart?"

"Mm hm," Marilla nodded. "Of course, I do." The reason she slipped up all the time was because she didn't really. What made it worse was that he called her colleagues Miss and Mrs respectively but still called her Marilla, because you're my girl," he explained. Though why it didn't work both ways he never explained.

Marilla stayed back late that night finishing off the report. It involved pulling down heavy ledgers from shelves in the filing room and meticulously copying down figures in a large spreadsheet. Everyone was long gone by the time Marilla placed the typed document on Jean's desk to be presented at his meeting the next morning. He was so overwrought the next morning he forgot to thank her.

He did find time to talk to her after lunch when he called her into his office over the intercom. Marilla hoped he would finally thank her for all her hard work. She knocked gently and waited until he waved at her through the office window. He was just finishing up a hearty phone conversation in which he organised a golf game the following week. When he hung up, he asked Marilla to close the door. She sat on the edge of her chair. "Marilla," he started. "There's been a complaint."

Marilla was shocked, "a, a complaint?"

"Yes, the other managers think you are a bit too familiar with me."

"Don't they know we, um, we…"

"It's not common knowledge and even if it were, I think you should be more respectful of my position. They're concerned that if you are so casual with me, they may be next."

Marilla felt sick and decided to change the subject, "how did your meeting go? Was the report okay?"

"We didn't get around to looking at it yet. I may have been a bit over eager." He smiled magnanimously at her. "I hope you didn't work too late. Of course, next week the figures will need to be updated. I'll let you know." Marilla nodded. "Anyway, back to the original matter, just be a bit careful you know," he smiled at her condescendingly.

Marilla had to get out of there, she felt like she might throw up. She got to her feet and backed out, searching blindly for the doorknob. Feeling rather like she was leaving a royal throne room.

*/*/*

Jean sprung an impromptu trip to the beach on her. After work one day they drove down to the foreshore and sat looking out at the vista for a moment. The beach looked inviting, a cool breeze blew off the water and the red sand beckoned. Jean parked the car behind a tree in the car park. Want a swim?" he offered.

"Oh, if only I'd known. I didn't bring my swimming costume," Marilla said forlornly. The water did look inviting.

Jean got out of the car and opened the trunk, "here try this," he flung an old bikini top and then bottoms at Marilla who caught them inexpertly, not questioning why he had a spare bikini in his car. Shyly she turned away from Jean who was only able to appraise her from behind for a moment before he put on his trunks. He looked at Marilla once she had gotten changed, the bikini wasn't exactly the right size, you could see stray strands of hair hanging out the bottom and the top was too big for Marilla's small breasts, but it would do in a pinch. "Here's a towel too," Jean handed the garishly coloured thing to Marilla who wrapped it around her skinny body.

Jean handed a basket over to Marilla to carry and then they made their way down to the water. "Here," declared Jean as he laid out his towel and plonked himself down on top of it. Marilla nodded as she set the basket down. It had been heavier and more unwieldy than she expected. She kneeled next to Jean to catch her breath. Jean watched her and just as she seemed to be settling down, got to his feet and caught Marilla by the arm pulling her up saying, "c'mon, let's go in."

Eagerly, laughing Marilla chased Jean down the beach, tripping slightly over her own feet as she raced down the beach. The water was freezing, "bracing," Jean called it in a slightly higher pitched voice than usual before he effortlessly dived under a wave resurfacing in an iridescent bow wave. He turned over to float on his back, chestnut-brown nipples tight from the cold. He laughed at Marilla who stood hip deep in the water, her arms wrapped protectively around her chest. "It's gorgeous, c'mon."

Tentatively, Marilla stuck out her right foot to take one step further in, jumping slightly as a wave threatened to submerge her stomach. She always found this the hardest part, but she had to do it at her own pace. Suddenly she found herself drenched by a spray of icy water and she screamed just a little. Hearing Jean hoot with laughter did not help, but she was determined to get in, even if her shoulders were now cold and goosebumpy. Jean swam around her and called out initially encouraging but soon teasing words. He started splashing her, and she shrieked and told him to stop, but a massive bow wave of water drenched her midscream and she got a mouthful of salty water.

Later they lay on their towels letting the sun dry their bodies. The drying salt itched Marilla's skin. She lay on her back with her arm shielding her eyes from the sun. Jean naturally had a hat and sunglasses which he wore looking very sophisticated. Marilla felt ungainly beside him. "Drink?" offered Jean. The beach was deserted now, the crowds that had come down for a quick dip after work had left to do whatever it was they did in the evening, leaving Jean and Marilla lying on their towels. Jean turned over towards her and pulled her closer, sneaking his hand over her breast. "Jean! We can't," Marilla protested pitifully.

"Sh, there's no one here, we can do what we like." Marilla let herself be pulled into his embrace, his cold arms wrapped around her, his soft goatee brushed across her lips. All her protestations subsided as he kissed her on the deserted foreshore. She always expected the beach would be divine place to do it, but in truth it was cold, hard and uncomfortable. She was unable to relax for fear they'd be caught. She wriggled away from Jean and firmly said, "no." He swore, stuffed his towel into the basket and strode back to the car wordlessly; she scrambled to follow him, lest she be left behind.

*/*/*

The Harvest Festival Dance loomed. Jean hadn't officially asked Marilla, but she hoped he would soon. She kept dropping hints which he casually deflected. Eventually he presented her with a new dress he'd found in town. "Maybe you'd like to wear it to the dance?" he suggested as Marilla threw herself into his arms.

She tried it on in the bathroom, still not entirely comfortable undressing in front of him. The light blue dress matched her eyes. When she emerged, he asked her to twirl around for him, her hem swirled around her ankles most fetchingly. She grinned at him and told him how lovey it was. "Hm," he said. "It's not too bad. If you had a bigger bust it would look amazing." Marilla was disappointed. She loved the dress but there wasn't much she could do in a short time to make her diminutive breasts larger.

Her bust was the one part of her anatomy she truly despised. She'd tried a supplement she'd seen advertised in a magazine; 'Flat chested girls despair no longer. Build a bigger bust! Beauti-Breast of Paris* will grow your bust by 3 inches! 99% effective!' it had promised. Accompanying before and after pictures assured a happy outcome. She had sent away some hard-earned money in a money order and received a suspicious contraption called the 'Hydrotherapy Cup'. She had used it religiously once a day for a month; measuring her chest at the end of every week. The cup proved useless, evidently Marilla was one of the unfortunate 1%. Another advertisement told her that chest exercises could help, but yet again as hard as she trained her breasts remained as flat as fried eggs on a skillet.

Jean turned away leaving her standing forlornly by the window. "I suppose it'll have to do," he muttered over his shoulder. Marilla turned to get changed back into her work clothes and when she remerged Jean asked her to massage his shoulders because, as he put it, "I'm tired after my big week."

Marilla put her hands on his shoulders, enjoying the sensation of his muscles under her hands and they chatted about the dance and who they expected to meet there. Marilla promised to introduce him to all of her friends, she was sure they would all love him.

*/*/*

The church hall looked so merry that night; the roof line was festooned with white fairy lights and a myriad of small lamps hung from the veranda, looking like stationary fireflies. Folk were milling around outside chatting, smoking; the boys looking very smart in their suits, beautiful girls showing off their new frocks. An old-fashioned hay wain was loaded with pumpkins and assorted foodstuffs adding to the harvest theme.

Marilla was delighted to show Jean off to her friends, Lavender Lewis was there with her beau Stephen Irving, and even Hester Murray and Jordan Gray made an appearance. They politely chatted to Jean and Marilla until the band struck up with a jaunty tune and they all raced out to the dance floor to dance the jitterbug. Eventually hot and sweating Marilla and Jean stumbled off the dance floor. Marilla stood at the side panting. "Want a drink?" Jean asked her.

Marilla turned her red face to him and nodded, panting hard after her exertions. Jean disappeared while Marilla caught her breath. She stood alone surrounded by happy groups yelling above the music; her left hand clasped her right elbow feeling a bit awkward. Jean did not reappear, but she could hear his infectious laugh at the other end of the hall. Craning her neck, she could just make him out surrounded by a giggling coterie of young girls. Marilla glanced around uncomfortably, tapping her foot now. She would wait a while longer and then, well then, she had no idea what to do. It was only when she spied John Blythe approaching with a friendly smile on his face his pretty new girlfriend in tow that she knew she had to escape. There was no way she could face him tonight of all nights. Abruptly she turned on her heel looking for the restroom and had to turn again when she couldn't see it. Of course, it had to be located over John's shoulder. She stormed past him ignoring his entreaties to stop and meet the new girl.

There was a long queue and when Marilla stopped to listen the talk was of some exotic man with an exquisite accent. Ugh, was there a single woman in the place Jean had not flirted with? Yes, there was, she thought - her.

Eventually her friends found Marilla standing alone by the drinks table. "Where's Jean disappeared to?" Lavender asked kindly.

"He's over there," Marilla gesticulated with a shake of her head. Lavender's eyes followed and she saw Jean's curly brown locks jutting above a coterie of laughing women. "Oh Marilla."

"Don't say anything, just don't okay. It's alright, I mean I can't stop him from having a good time, can I?" Marilla spoke in a deadpan manner, trying to hide her hurt.

"Well, I suppose not. Still he did…" She paused as Marilla put up her hand to stop her; choking back the words she was about to say. They stood around then awkwardly, trying to make conversation, but Marilla's attention was very much not on them, rather on the man at the opposite end of the room.

Eventually Jean did remember that he had brought a date. Marilla watched as he excused himself from the pack and wove his way back through the crowd. "Having a goo time, M'rilla," he slurred pawing her ineffectually.

Angrily she batted him away, "are you drunk?"

"Mi have had a couple," he swallowed heavily and belched in her face, the stale beer fumes smelt revolting. "Iss a party after all, ya should live a little, M'rilla. You're always so upti," he weaved in front of her. "Here gimme a kiss, you never kiss me enough," he leant across her and attempted to fondle her breasts, the ones he said were too small. His hot beery breath caught in her throat and his goatee roughly rubbed against her cheek. She tried to push him away, but he was too strong, and she found herself pushed against the wall, powerless; his hands groping her through her dress.

Just when she was worried something might truly go wrong, he was roughly pulled away. Paul Irving had seen him in play from across the room, but it had taken him some time to find a way through the crowd to come to her rescue. "Alri, alri," Jean backed away, stumbling in his effort to get away from Paul's menacing fists.

The crowd turned to watch the drama unfold, several women gasped when it looked as though their handsome Jean might be punched.

"Leave her alone," Paul growled. "Just leave her alone."

"No, it's alright, Paul. Thank you." Marilla turned to help Jean putting an arm out to fend Paul off.

"He's a maniac that guy, why do you like him?" Jean said, suddenly sober.

"Sh, sh," Marilla placated.

"I'm not having any fun, I'm leaving. Coming?" he asked Marilla abruptly.

"You're not driving, are you? You're too drunk. Let me drive," Marilla tried to wrestle the car keys out of his hands.

"No!" he shouted, suddenly escalating the situation. "No woman's driving my car." He shoved her out of the way and climbed into the car. "You comin'?" Marilla shook her head, unwilling to get in the car with him in that state. "Your loss," Jean flung at her and revved the engine as he drove off without a backwards glance. Marilla could feel the heat of the exhaust dissipating on her bare legs.

Paul and Lavender were there when Marilla needed them. She climbed into their backseat and they took her home, kindly not saying a word about the situation.

That night as she was undressing for bed. she heard the phone ring downstairs, its strident tones waking up the whole family. "Marilla!" her father called. "It's Jean, he's had an accidentl."

* Actual product name


	7. The Aftermath

"Oh Jean," Marilla flung herself to his side as he lay in his hospital bed, a grey blanket rucked around him in a room that was white and clinical. Much to his disgust Jean had been placed in a room with three other patients; the doctors kept him overnight to monitor him in case he was concussed.

"Hey, watch it," he replied petulantly.

He had taken a corner too fast and driven into a tree, wrecking the car and was lucky to escape with nothing worse than a broken arm and some cuts and bruises. His cast was large and bulky, and he felt very sorry for himself.

Marilla drew back to look at him, he looked dreadful with a long laceration down his cheek, two black eyes and a split lip. He reminded her of Rachel after one particularly bad day though she kept that to herself.

*/*/*

"I walked into the door again, so clumsy of me," Rachel said indistinctly.

Marilla didn't even deign to answer her at first, choosing merely to look at her with pity in her eyes. "Rachel," she asked eventually. "How long have we known each other?"

"Oh, I don't know, years and years I guess."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you implicitly."

"Then for the good Lord's sake please stop lying to me. He's a bully, he likes to hit you." Rachel hung her head, unable to look Marilla in the eye as she continued relentlessly, sick of the fabrication, "I know it, Matthew knows it and you know it, Rachel. There I've said it, it is what it is and you don't need to pretend any longer."  
Rachel did not look up, but she did reach her left hand out blindly. Marilla caught it and grasped it gently, sending all the love she could muster through her grip.

*/*/*

"Hey, look at me," Jean said grumpily as Marilla gazed to the middle distance very obviously not looking at him, "I'm the patient, remember."

"Oh sorry, Jean. I was just reminded of something."

"You mean because of my good looks?"

Marilla half-heartedly chuckled, "something like that. Now how are you really?" She asked, though Jean was not one to put on a brave face.

He pouted through his split lip, "I hurt everywhere."

"Did they not give you pain relief?"

"Well they gave me a bit, but I'm still sore."

"Oh, my poor darling. What can I get you?"

Marilla sat by his bed and held his other hand until he pulled free, "ugh, your hand is sweaty," he complained.

"Shall I get you a glass of water?"

"Hm, I'd rather have something stronger," he said.

"Not after your accident surely?"

Jean sighed melodramatically, "I guess not."

*/*/*

"Mom, I have to stay by his side. He's helpless," Marilla announced over dinner that night.

"No, I forbid it, Marilla. It's not the done thing for an unmarried woman to spend the night alone with a man. He can go home to his parents, but you will not be staying there to help out."

"Aww Mom, nothing can happen, he's wounded after all."

Her mother was adamant however and Marilla had to break the news to Jean. He was not happy. The last thing he wanted to do was move back in with his parents even short term. "Can't you persuade her? You're old enough surely. She can't actually stop you, you know. You're 24 Marilla, it's time your parents stopped running your life."  
Marilla packed her bags ignoring her mother's protests. The first thing she did when she arrived was a load of washing, both clothes and dishes then she vacuumed the floor. Jean was more hopeless than she expected, and she had to help him do everything, washing, dressing. She had to cut up his food for him and drive him to work. Sometimes she thought he might be laying it on a bit thick, but then she chided herself for her selfishness. Poor Jean was in pain and needed her.

One night after a couple of drinks, Marilla and Jean became rather vigorously amorous on the couch. Marilla's mother's words rang in her head, 'be careful darling, sometimes things get out of hand', but his hand on her breast and his tongue in her mouth felt so very good. Since buttons were hard to manage single handedly Marilla undid her blouse and bra for him and then hurriedly undressed Jean. He stopped and rolled over to pull open his bedside drawer. Once again, his lack of working hand thwarted him and between them, they had to put the sheath on. Marilla wanted to giggle, it was so bizarre, but Jean's distinct lack of humour stopped her. Then she lay back down on her side on the bed beside him. Jean kissed her some more. Roughly he rolled her over on to her back and clambered on top. The problem was he couldn't get his balance. Inexperienced Marilla impatiently waited for him to get into position, her legs instinctively wide open. Jean toppled over and scrambled to right himself, swearing as he went. "How about I go on top?" Marilla suggested gently.

"No, blast it, it's the man who goes on top, don't you know anything?" Jean snapped. He had waited so long to get inside her pants and now his stupid arm was impeding him. Eventually he lost his desire and he angrily turned away from her, leaving Marilla unsatisfied. She rolled towards him and softly touched his shoulder, "it's okay Jean, we can try again some other time."

"Urgh," he grunted.

"Please darling, don't give up. I so desperately want to do it with you. I want you to be my first, please Jean." Marilla lay looking at his back for a while, she was keen, very keen and now it seemed nothing would come of it? Would he mind if she? Best not while he was in this state, she supposed. She got out of bed to go to the bathroom thinking she might be able to relieve herself if she did it quietly. Strangely enough the image that came to mind as she climaxed was not of Jean's broad chest looming over her but of buxom Rachel in her bathing costume when they were young girls. Marilla was embarrassed about it later; her mind was playing tricks on her.

They did manage it a few nights later. Jean was still unbalanced, but he worked out a way to stay on top. He pressed himself into her and Marilla sucked in a breath as she felt him enter. So, this was sex, she thought to herself as he groaned and moaned on top of her. Truth be told it was a bit boring after a while and it hurt. When he had finished Jean walked out to the bathroom to clean himself up. Marilla watched him go. Was that it? What about her? She had pretended she was enjoying herself, but it was rather repulsive and now she could feel the residue slipping out onto her thighs. It was warm now, but she expected that wouldn't last long. "Mm," said Jean contentedly when he returned. He smacked her thigh gently before he turned over and went to sleep, his snores ringing out shortly afterwards.

They did it often after that, Marilla assumed it was her fault that she did not enjoy it and certainly Jean never disabused her of that notion. He certainly seemed to enjoy himself up there, she would watch as the ecstasy played across his face. Sometimes they shared a post-coital cigarette, she liked that bit. The warmth of a collegiate cigarette implied a strong bond between them.

*/*/*

"Miss Cuthbert, do you mind coming into my office for a moment?" Mr Pye the general manager's voice sounded clipped and unnatural over the intercom.

"Of course, Mr Pye," Marilla put down her pen and got up, straightening her skirt as she went. She had not seen Jean that morning, but sometimes he had a meeting to attend to on the way to work; though he had not mentioned anything the day before.

Marilla knocked at Mr Pye's door and was admitted. She sat down on the chair opposite his desk and waited until he finished his letter. He looked up at her with a frown, his fingers interlaced. There was a pause, Marilla waited. Mr Pye cleared his throat and started, "Miss Cuthbert, have you any idea where M. Pouce is today?"

"What? I mean no," she stuttered.

"M. Pouce's whereabouts are unknown to us and a sum of money has gone missing. Do you know anything about it? I understand you two are very chummy."

Marilla's blood ran cold. She had no idea what he was talking about, but Mr Pye's normally friendly tone was stern and accusatory. She paused, thinking it through, "no. I have no idea."

"Do you deny that you are friends with him?"

The details of their relationship were an ill-kept secret. "No, I don't deny it, but I don't know anything about any money."

"You must see how it looks, the Accounting Manager and the bookkeeper date and now some money has gone missing. I checked the bank account today and several thousand dollars has gone astray. What can you tell me about it?"

Marilla felt sick, she swallowed hard and whispered, "nothing."

"Very well, you are excused Miss Cuthbert. I am not firing you - yet. But I am sending you home pending an investigation, on no pay naturally. Take your things and leave the office. I will call you when I know more."

Marilla looked at him in shock, did her years' service mean nothing? Sadly, she left his office and made her way out to her desk. She picked up her handbag and ignoring her colleague's questions walked to her car. Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she would not cry in front of them.

The front door was unlocked, and the apartment was empty; not that it had never been full exactly. The sink was full of dirty dishes and the bed was unmade, but it had an air of desolation about it. His clothes were missing, Marilla bent down and found the shirt and tie she had given him for his birthday lying crumpled on the floor. That was when it hit her. Jean had used her from the start and now she was implicated in his crime. Had he ever loved her? Was he even capable of love? Marilla collapsed on the floor and wept; hot tears tracing down her face. She blew her nose on the shirt; his aftershave irritating her nasal passages.

Marilla reflected on their months together. She had often declared her love for him, had he ever reciprocated? Had he ever given her one thing? She pulled the broken locket over her head and studied it intently as it dangled from one finger. All he had ever given her was this useless trinket; it was whole when they were together? What rubbish. Rachel had been right. Marilla's tears turned to anger as she remembered the backhanded compliments, the slights. The dress that would have looked better if she had been pretty, the work she did for him with no recognition, his flirting at the harvest dance. She undressed and took a shower; washing her hair with his shampoo. After stuffing her clothes in a bag, she left the front door wide open and strode out to the car. She had to apologise to Rachel. She had been right all along, Marilla deserved better than this trumped up little Frenchman.

Rachel was just putting the baby down for a nap when Marilla walked into the house without knocking. Rachel turned around in shock, putting her arms out to a very distressed Marilla. When her tears subsided, she hiccupped a profound apology, "I'm so so-sorry Rachel. You were completely right. He wasn't any good, he's been playing me for a fool all this time. And now I think I'm about to be sacked." Rachel held out one of Thomas's handkerchiefs and turned to fetch a drink while Marilla noisily trumpeted her nose through it.

When Marilla had told her the whole sordid tale, Rachel said no more than, "don't wait to be sacked, resign. They'll miss you soon enough. You as good as run that place, I'm sure."

Marilla reached out to clasp Rachel's hand, giggling a bit as she did so, "they're useless without me. Nobody has a clue. No one can even get paid."  
"That's the spirit. Let them come begging, and when they do ask for a pay rise."

"I'll spend the lot on you, you know." They grinned at each conspiratorially other over their coffee.

It was pretty much as Rachel predicted; Apples for Apples came begging. No one had a clue how the convoluted pay process worked. Over the years Marilla had requested a better system but had been ignored. Now Mr Pye understood the predicament as his unpaid staff battered down his door. They were they out of pocket and up in arms.

Please Marilla, we need you," he pleaded one wet afternoon. The rain could be heard drumming on the corrugated iron roof as Marilla stared at him, thinking hard. On the one hand she needed the money, but on the other they'd proved they didn't really trust her. "On three conditions," she said eventually.

"Yes, anything," said Mr Pye desperately.

"I need more money," she said, ticking off her fingers. "Someone to replace me when you grant me the promotion I deserve, and you must implement the improved payroll system I suggested last year."

Mr Pye put his head in his hands, "that's the problem I don't have more money. Pouce nearly wiped us out."

"Leave it to me," Marilla said. "With some streamlined processes, I reckon I can save you money. I agree to waive my pay rise for six months."

Finally, a glimmer of hope. Mr Pye looked up at her his eyes shining in gratitude, "you really think so?"

Marilla nodded then getting to her feet said, "okay, I'll get right on it, Mr Pye." He watched her leave gratefully.

*/*/*

In a few short months Marilla had the place turned around. She had implemented several new accounting processes which streamlined several practices and saved Apples for Apples thousands. Mr Pye granted her a pay rise, and all was looking up in Marilla's world. Except of course she did feel like a fool whenever she thought of the way she had fallen for Jean. Never again, she promised herself. "Next time you think I'm acting like a fool, please let me know," she begged Rachel one afternoon. "I know I'm not the best listener, but just remind me of how I behaved this time, and I'll try to take note.


	8. Euphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marilla makes a new friend and enters a new phase of her life.

Most unusually, dark haired Josephine Barry was a single woman of independent means; how Marilla never quite worked out. When questioned Josephine would wave airily saying 'oh a bit of this and a bit of that'. Marilla decided it didn't matter either way. Josephine was most amazingly generous with her time, money and succour. A unique character, Josephine refused to toe the line when it came to matters of gender roles, eschewing marriage or men at all it appeared. She was known for her sumptuous parties and patronage of the arts. As a result, she harboured an eclectic array of Prince Edward Island's most stimulating citizens. Each year she threw the most magnificent costume parties, an invitation to which was considered an invitation into high society.

Josephine Barry never divulged how the family came by their fortune. In truth because she was mortified by the way in which her father made his money. Mr Barry sold cigarettes on the black market during the last war. He considered himself a shrewd businessman, but Josephine could never live down the shame and as a result, she spent her inheritance on philanthropic causes; championing the arts and other charities.

She had family in Avonlea, and it was through them that Marilla and she had become acquainted. Although quiet, Josephine recognised a latent spirit deep in Marilla's psyche. They had met at a dance where her cousin William Barry had introduced them briefly before dashing off to dance with yet another pretty girl. His mother had made him escort her to the dance and he was keen to offload Josephine to give him more time for fun. Marilla and Josephine had stood chatting desultorily by the punch bowl, the air thick with smoke. The band was loud making it hard to talk. "Let's go," Marilla yelled at her new acquaintance over the music.

Grabbing a couple of drinks, she led the older woman through the crowd. Outside it was deliciously cool and quiet, muffled music drifted through the air. The stars twinkled brightly in the clear night sky, "ah. That's better," said Josephine contently. Marilla nodded as she passed her a cup of bright red punch. "What do they put in this?" Josephine asked suspiciously, "do they try it first?". Marilla giggled; she had always wondered the same thing. The stuff was cold but not appetising. Nearby a group of boys were augmenting the stuff from hipflasks. Josephine followed their lead, pulling a clandestine bottle from her cleavage. Marilla looked at her in shock, "want some?" Josephine asked.

"Uh, huh," Marilla nodded staring at the bottle.

"Only thing that makes the stuff palatable," said Josephine as she poured a healthy slug of the booze into both cups. Leaning back against the wall she took a swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "so Marilla Cuthbert, tell me about yourself."

Not really knowing why, Marilla poured her heart out to this exotic woman. Telling her about her failed relationship to John Blythe, her friendship with Rachel Lynde and lastly about her ridiculous infatuation with the odious Jean Pouce. "Doesn't that mean?" asked Josephine quizzically."

Marilla nodded, "it should have been a warning sign, I suppose. He had no sense of humour about it, none at all."

Josephine waved her self-admonishment away, "it's easy to make mistakes when you're in the middle of something." Marilla sipped at the drink; whatever Josephine had added certainly improved the taste. "What's in it?" she asked shyly pointing the place she knew the bottle now resided.

"Secret family recipe," replied Josephine, tapping the side of her nose with her index finger. I only share the stuff with friends. He," she looked pointedly towards the hall implying that she was talking about her cousin, "won't be pouring any of it down his arrogant throat. Anyway, your John Thumb," she said, deliberately anglifying his name. "Sounds like a pompous arse."

Marilla hung her head still somewhat embarrassed that she let Jean trample over her like that. "Hey, I'm not blaming you," Josephine placed one conciliatory hand on Marilla's arm for a fraction longer than socially acceptable, and with a firmer grip than Marilla expected. "You have to be strong, Marilla Cuthbert. You have to look that blunder in the face and admit you made a mistake and promise never to do it to yourself again. But," she gripped tighter, "don't blame yourself for being compassionate. That is an admirable quality, my friend. Can I call you my friend?" she asked, at which Marilla nodded. "It's not as if you're the first woman to fall for someone like Mr Thumb, nor I'm afraid that you'll be the last. Just make him your last, okay?"

Tears sprung to Marilla's eyes and her throat closed up, as she nodded her approval. No one had ever spoken to her so compassionately before. Her family had merely let her back into the house but had never really spoken about Jean and Rachel had enough on her mind; she had another baby to care for and Marilla knew she was pregnant yet again.

Marilla had a great deal to think about over the next few months. On Josephine's advice, she stopped feeling sorry for herself and filled her life with her career and made sure she made the most of various social occasions as they cropped up. Her colleagues were a fun bunch and she enjoyed going out to the movies or to dances with a group of them. Occasionally she would flirt with one of the men; even sharing the odd kiss now and again, but it never came to anything. Marilla did not feel drawn to anyone in particular and was particularly wary of making new close connections. Unwittingly she became the sort of woman people liked but never really grew intimate with.

When an invitation arrived in the mail to visit Josephine in Charlottetown some months later, Marilla stared at it with interest turning the card over and over in her hands. She had never seen Josephine again after that evening, but she remembered her nonchalant insouciance with a sort of thrill. Josephine bucked society's norms, preferring to live life her own way. Marilla hoped some of that joie de vivre might rub off.

Eying off her wardrobe, Marilla wished she had a girlfriend to help her make a choice; ordinarily she would have invited Rachel over, but she had just given birth and was enjoying a much needed rest in hospital The invitation was vague about dress requirements, but the last thing Marilla wanted was to appear to be a country hick. Eventually, with almost every item in her wardrobe flung over the bed, she had assembled a somewhat satisfactory outfit. She wasn't entirely happy, but it would have to do.

It was with some misgivings and no understanding of what she might find at the end of her journey that Marilla drove her old dodge truck to Charlottetown that fall afternoon. Josephine's doorbell had the most sonorous tone which Marilla felt down to her toes. She waited for a few minutes standing with trepidation on the doorstep feeling very self-conscious, her dilapidated carpet bag clutched in both hands. It had started to drizzle and the wind blew the rain in sideways, the portico providing little cover. Marilla was just about to give up and go home when a startling blue eye suddenly appeared through a peephole in the middle of the door. Apparently satisfied, whomever it was opened the door revealing Josephine Barry dressed in a marvellous azure dressing gown covered in an intricate design of peacock feathers, "I am so dreadfully sorry to keep you waiting, my dear. Oh and it's raining, goodness, what sort of a host am I?" said Josephine in her always surprisingly deep voice. She reached forward for Marilla's bag and gave her a sumptuous kiss on the lips to Marilla's shock and embarrassment. Touching her lips with her fingers, she followed Josephine into the house.

The hallway was lined with the deepest crimson wallpaper and sumptuously deep piled carpet. It felt to Marilla as if she were re-entering the womb and when Josephine saw her enquiring glances she grinned and answered, "I know," to Marilla's unspoken comment. As they walked Josephine tossed Marilla's bag into a corner muttering, "won't be needing that for a while." She turned to give Marilla an intriguing wink and smiled evilly. At the end of the hall stood a heavy carved wooden door, Josephine leant forward in front of Marilla and opened it inwards.

Marilla stopped in the entrance and stared at the scene before her. All manner of semi-dressed women lay languidly across the floor, the furniture and each other. Lamps at each corner struggled to shed their light against the heavy aromatic smoke emanating from a myriad of vibrantly coloured hookah pipes dotted around the room. In a corner a record player was playing psychotropic music and women were moaning and whispering in a constant susurration. One woman clothed only in a towel around her midriff, legs outspread hair just covering the tops of her breasts puffed on a pipe while her languid eyes played up and down Marilla's body appraisingly as she explicitly stroked her sex with her forefinger. 

Marilla felt outrageously over dressed and barely noticed Josephine unzipping her frock. It puddled around her feet as she stepped out clothed now only in her girdle. "I do hope you enjoy yourself, my dear," Josephine whispered in her ear as she pulled and played on her earlobe with her insistent tongue, "do try the pipe, I find it lends an enchanting ambience to the occasion."

A few puffs from a pipe sent a drug coursing through Marilla's system lowering her inhibitions. Her girdle was soon lost in the detritus of clothing covering the floor. There followed the most marvellous Sapphic bacchanalia. All manner of women met her every desire or whim. Acts that were beyond her wildest imagination were performed on and by her throughout the next rapturous hours as time passed in an orgasmic haze. Marilla understood as she never had before what she had missed out on when Jean perched on top of her, though she suspected even he had no idea how marvellous sex could be. Josephine had one ear attuned to the doorbell and every so often would arise, cover herself in her gown, disappear and introduce new women to the mix a few minutes later. Marilla and the other women would welcome them with cries of welcome; offering the pipe and smothering the newcomers with kisses and more besides.

A dazed Marilla emerged three days later, she had gathered her clothes and put them back on, barely recalling the disquiet she felt when putting her wardrobe together days earlier. Quiet Avonlea and her beloved Green Gables seemed more tedious than ever. When Josephine called for her again a few months later she barely had time to throw a few items in her carpet bag and check that her truck had enough gas. She drove off in a rush leaving her bemused family behind her, wondering what on earth the attraction was, that could take their girl away from them in such a rush.

Life took on an exquisite flavour henceforth and these pleasurable interludes made dozy Avonlea more bearable. Sometimes she dreamed of moving in with Josephine or at least closer to her, but she wasn't sure she could bear to live in the busy town. It was a nice place to visit, but she preferred to stay in Avonlea and use Charlottetown as an occasional bolthole.

"What do you do up there?" Matthew asked her one day. It was difficult to answer, how to explain the delicious days and nights spent in rapturous fervour to her quiet brother?

"We play music and cards, and er other things," she finished lamely, smiling inwardly when she remembered the way Josephine had straddled her the day before, her body was particularly beautiful when viewed from below.

"Hm," said Matthew. "Doesn't sound that interesting to me." He turned away confused, no idea what the attraction was. As far as he could see, there was no reason Marilla would rush to town to play cards. Women were odd, there was no two ways about it. Cows were predictable, women not so much.


	9. Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne arrives at Green Gables

Now I think I might have confused a few people along the way, and possibly myself as well 😛. There's a definite time stamp in this chapter, but I should explain that we started in the late 1960s and then back tracked to the 1940s. The main part of the story will occur in the 1970s. I'll try to date chapters from now on.

Anne

October 1962

Matthew reached for his coffee cup swirling the dregs around to catch the last of the grinds in the remaining water. He brought it to his lips but set it down again as he read a newspaper article with interest. If some good could come out of the current world situation that would be interesting.

Marilla looked up at his grunt, "what is it?"

"It's just here in the paper," Matthew said as he laid the newsheet on the table the better to see her. "they're saying maybe the Cuban crisis will increase the price of potatoes."

Marilla rolled her eyes, "for goodness sakes, Matthew. If the best angle they can come up with as the world goes up in smoke is that the price of potatoes might rise then we're in a bigger pickle than I imagined. Which fool wrote the article?"

Chastened, Matthew looked back down at the paper, "um, that Bruce Sloane."

"A Sloane, well that explains it, they're a bunch of idiots in that family. Potatoes indeed," Marilla slammed the coffee cups in the dishwasher with some fury, twirling around in haste when the strident tone of the telephone rang out across the house. Wiping her hands on her pants, she picked up the receiver and said, "Green Gables, Marilla Cuthbert speaking."

Matthew could only hear her side of the conversation and he listened intently to what she had to say. They seldom received telephone calls which was fortunate as he hated the contraption. Marilla stood twirling the phone cord in her fingers in the way that always infuriated Matthew. "Yes."

"Oh my," she covered the receiver with one hand and mouthed, "bad news," at Matthew.

"Uh huh," Marilla said to the unknown caller. "Oh dear." She blanched and turned away from Matthew, "and what about their daughter, Anne wasn't it?"

"I see."

"Yes, I understand."

"We'll be there in an hour or so." Marilla carefully placed the receiver back in its cradle and shakily drew in a deep breath as she turned around to face Matthew. "There's been an auto accident, Walter and Bertha Shirley have been killed."

"Oh no," breathed Matthew. "Don't they have a child?"

"Her name's Anne, thankfully she got out with a few minor injuries. Except now of course she is an orphan. I think we are her last living relatives," Marilla explained.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Don't go thinking we'll take her in, Marilla. What do we know about child rearing? Two old fuddy-duddys like us, never married. The last thing we need is a small child around the place and she deserves better too." Marilla nodded, she didn't always agree with everything her brother had to say, but in this instance she suspected he was right. Still as Anne's only living relatives because both Bertha and Walter had been only children; she suspected they might have some small part to play in her upbringing. "Do we know how old she is?" Matthew said interrupting her thoughts.

"Seven or eight I'd say," replied Marilla. "Though I'm just guessing. Can you recall when we went to their wedding?"

Matthew thought back to that happy winter day in an indeterminate year, shaking his head he said, "No, I remember the day, not the date."

"Hm, I'm the same. Well I said we'd go to the hospital and see her. I expect she'll be terribly shaken up, poor kid."

"Do you want me to come too?"

"Yes, you drive, I feel a bit shaky."

As it turned out Anne was eleven. Her parent's wedding day had been thirteen years earlier. Marilla and Matthew joined numerous friends on a bright winter's day to watch the happy couple celebrate their nuptials.

Walter and Bertha Shirley had met at high school. Both their fathers had died in the war and their mothers had died before their time too; Walter's had died of TB and Bertha's mother had succumbed to breast cancer when they were just young adults themselves and this provided a bond that could never be broken. They had trained as teachers though Bertha barely worked before Walter proposed. When she fell pregnant some fifteen months later their friends rejoiced. The couple were due some happiness in their lives. Anne's birth was a joy beyond reckoning. The young family had just enjoyed a picnic together for Walter's delayed birthday celebration. On the way home a drunk driver T-boned their car, spinning it out of control. The adults died instantly; Bertha when she flew through the windscreen and Walter when the steering wheel drove through his chest.

Matthew and Marilla enquired for Anne at reception and were directed to the lift to the next floor. They were introduced to a social worker who took them to meet Anne. Curled up in an uncomfortable chair old tears stained Anne's cheeks, matted red hair surrounded her face. The social worker, Miss Bartrop told them to take it slowly. Marilla and Matthew hovered in the doorway while she knelt down and touched Anne on the knee. They couldn't make out what she said, but they smiled when Anne looked up at them with large grey mournful eyes nestled in her freckled face. Miss Bartrop looked over her shoulder at them and explained, "I told her that you were related." She turned back to Anne, "do you remember these folks?" Anne shook her head.

"You were just a little girl last time we met. I'd be surprised if you remembered us. You may call me Marilla, and this is my brother, Matthew." Anne made no move except to look back at Miss Bartrop blankly. Marilla gestured to Matthew and together they sat down on chairs that looked more comfortable than they were, expecting to sink into soft cushions and being rebuffed by hard ones. They chatted with Anne for a few moments until Miss Bartrop asked Marilla to come out to the hallway with her. Marilla looked back at Matthew nodding her head in Anne's direction.

Matthew watched the ladies leave and turned to Anne hesitantly. He had little experience talking to children. Although he had been reluctant to take Anne on his heart was moved by the sight of her curled up in the uncomfortable chair all on her own. Gently he started talking; he described where they lived, the little house, its whimsical name and the way it nestled into its surroundings. "There's even a little brook running through it, I used to love paddling in it when I was a boy. I grew up there, I've lived in Green Gables all my life," he explained. "Do you think you'd like to see it? I, er we can take you there now if you want." Anne's eyes were rather glazed as he talked, but he plunged on regardless.

Anne was reluctant to go anywhere with these strangers. She wanted her mama, but the other lady had told her that Mama had died in the accident. Anne had been sitting in the back seat not paying the road much attention. She had a book… Her book. Where was her book? She started looking around frantically, twisting and turning in her chair. Mama hated it when she lost things and now she would be in trouble for losing it and she had been loving it so. "My book," she whispered.

"Eh, what's that?" Matthew asked.

"I lost my book, Mama will be cross with me," Anne broke down in frantic sobs and at the sound of her growing distress the ladies returned to the room. Miss Bartrop knelt down in front of Anne muttering, "shock" over her shoulder. "Anne it's all right, we can buy you another copy of the book. What was it called?"

"It was, it was," Anne hiccupped, "Sajo and her Beaver People.* I'd just got to the part where Sajo's father had to sell Chikanee. It was so sad and and I was reading it when when…" Anne stopped then, no more words could come out.

"It sounds very sad, Anne. I'm sure we can find you a new book and you can find out what happens to the beaver. Don't worry about it." Marilla reassured her.

"Maybe the book is still in the car," Anne sprang to her feet determined to find it.

"Woah, there," Miss Bartrop caught her as she rushed past. "I'm afraid you can't go to the car just now."

"But I have to, I just have to get the book. Mama hates it when I lose things, she gets so upset with me. I get lost in daydreams sometimes and I forget where I put things, it drives her crazy. I know where the book is. I should have picked it up when I was taken out, but I forgo-ot and now, and now," Anne's face crumpled into tears as a wave of realisation swept over her. Inconsolably she sobbed on Miss Bartrop's shoulder. Marilla bobbed down in front of Anne and rubbed her knee, "it's alright darling Mama would understand, she won't be cross. We can get you a new copy of the book and I'll read it to you, would you like that?"

"I'm not a baby, I can read it myself," Anne spat back at her.

"Of course you can, I understand that you're old enough, but sometimes it's nice to have someone read to you, even when you're big. Our father used to read to us both, didn't he?"

Marilla looked across at Matthew who nodded back, "yes it was one of my favourite things. We used to sit on either side of him, didn't we? After our bath, Marilla."

"Mm, hm," Marilla agreed. "And he'd read all sorts of books to us. Mama too. Do you think you'd like that, Anne?"

Anne was silent, it was like they were all in some big conspiracy against her, like they were going to hide her from her parents and turn her back into a baby. But no, the lady said her mama and papa were dead, she kept forgetting.

Matthew watched emotions play over Anne's face, each time she remembered what had happened her face would fall. It broke Matthew's heart. It had been desperately sad when their folks died a few years back. Mama was closely followed by Papa; but at least they had a good life and Marilla and Matthew were able to fend for themselves. But this poor little mite was all alone. Well not all alone if Matthew had anything to do about it.

While Anne was being cared for by Miss Bartrop another social worker collected Marilla and Matthew and asked them to go with her for a moment. She sat them down around a nondescript round grey table in another room and put her file down as she asked, "now I'd like to know what we should do with Anne. I completely understand if you can't take her in. She can go into foster care until we find someone who can adopt her. It's not common, but it does happen, or…"

Marilla was nodding along, but to her surprise Matthew interrupted, "we'll take her. She can come and live with us."

The social worker was surprised, but delighted, "if you're sure, Mr Cuthbert."

"I am, I hope you don't mind Marilla. I just couldn't leave that little girl to the mercy of the state system. We're all she has now."

"Would you give us a moment, please," Marilla asked the social worker. She nodded, took up her manila folder and left them to it.

"Matthew Cuthbert, what are you saying?" Marilla swivelled around towards him in confusion.

"I think we need to keep her, she's a smart little thing and all alone. I couldn't in good conscience leave her here, or anywhere really."

"But you said, you said we don't know anything about child rearing and for once brother I agreed with you."

"I changed my mind as soon as I saw her. She needs us Marilla."

"But what good would she be to us?" Marilla questioned Matthew abruptly.

"We might be some good to her," said Matthew suddenly and unexpectedly.

"Matthew Cuthbert, I believe that child has bewitched you! I can see plain as plain that you want to keep her."

Matthew nodded emphatically, "and if she has, so what? She's our kin Marilla."

Marilla huffed, but had no comeback to that, she opened and closed her mouth a few times, but he was right. Anne was kin and it was their duty to look after her as inexperienced as they were. She stuck her head out the door and looked for the social worker who put down her coffee as soon as she saw Marilla, "everything sorted?" she asked as she drew closer. "I am glad, we do like children to stay with family members if it's at all possible. Here are some forms to sign and some pamphlets which might help you. You can expect Anne to regress somewhat."

"Regress?" Marilla said questioningly. "Whatever do you mean?"

"It's common when children have survived a great trauma. She might go back to thumb sucking or bed wetting. I'm sure she'll act out or she may just be very quiet. It's important to let her take the lead and not fly into a temper yourself. You have to be very patient with her. And yet," the woman paused. "And yet children are very adaptable. In a few weeks she should be settling down. Still don't hesitate to reach out to here or someone closer to home if you are having problems. I'll refer your case to your local GP, Miss and Mr Cuthbert. Someone will be in touch."

They went back into the room and let Miss Bartrop ask Anne if she would be prepared to go and spend the night with Matthew and Marilla. A nurse had popped in and given Anne one of the teddy-bears they used as comfort toys for children. Despite her brave words Anne looked very young as she stood in the little cotton dress they had found her. A butterfly bandage across her left eyebrow was her only visible injury and the teddy was tightly clasped in her arms. Anne cast her big grey eyes, now red from crying up at them both and slowly nodded. Matthew held out his hand and asked if he could carry her. That sounded nice actually, all of a sudden Anne was desperately tired. She nodded and let him scoop her up into his strong arms. She nestled against his chest inhaling his earthy scent, so different to her papa's but comforting all the same.

Matthew bundled Anne between them in the car, her legs dangling down the seat. "We have a bit of a drive now Anne," Marilla advised. Anne yawned mightily and snuggled against Marilla's side. Marilla instinctively reached around Anne's slight body and hugged her close. The drive home was mostly silent as Anne fell asleep almost at once. Marilla scooped Anne into her arms and sat with her on her lap, Anne's head against her chest. Matthew glanced across at Marilla now and again, but for the most part kept his eyes on the road. After the tragic events of the day it seemed especially important to concentrate.

"Anne," Marilla stroked her face, lifting a stray strand of hair away, "we're here. We're home, welcome to Green Gables." Anne woke up groggily at first then with a start as she forgot why she was in an unknown car with two strangers. She stiffened and scrambled off Marilla's lap looking up at her in alarm.

"Sh darling, you're safe. I'm Marilla and this is Matthew. We're going to look after you, remember?"

At her words, Anne remembered why she was there and the devastating knowledge that her parents had died, flooded back. Miss Bartrop had warned them that it would happen this way that she would most likely momentarily forget and be upset when she remembered. Marilla reached out a hand to her, but Anne cringed away, her face wet from tears and snot. Marilla looked up at Matthew, with concern in her eyes unsure of what to do.

* This was one of my favourite books growing up. Sajo and her Beaver People (1935) follows the story of a young Ojibwe girl and her pet orphaned beavers. It was written by Grey Owl, purportedly an indigenous author, but it later transpired he was born in England but lived with First Nation people most of his life.


	10. Barbie vs Mitzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne struggles to settle into life at Green Gables.

Barbie vs Mitzi  
It was an adjustment thought Marilla as she slung another pair of Anne's muddy dungarees into the washing machine. Turning the knob, she listened to the water flow into the machine with relief. The machine could be temperamental, but since Matthew had repaired it last time it was working fine.  
Parenthood had bypassed Marilla and Matthew up until now and they found it a challenge. Yet Anne was a sweet little thing and they enjoyed having her around. Naturally she was desperately sad to lose her parents and they gently guided her through the grieving process, ably assisted by their neighbours and the social workers who came to visit occasionally.  
Initially Anne seemed to settle down quite easily, but the social worker, Miss Bartrop warned that she would probably suffer a set back at some point. As it was it took a week, one day Anne wouldn't get out of bed. Marilla called her to her that breakfast was ready and when those little red braids never appeared in the kitchen, she went upstairs to investigate. Anne was sitting by her bed, her teddy bear clutched in her arms tears flowing silently down her cheeks. Marilla sat down beside her and let the little girl pour out her emotion. Eventually Anne was able to stammer out that she had wet the bed. "I haven't done that since I was a little girl, Marilla. I'm sorry."  
"Darling, it's no bother at all, we can wash those sheets without a problem. Is that what you're upset about? You don't have to cry about wet sheets," Marilla said soothingly.  
"No, not really it's just, well it's just I never got to say goodbye."  
"To your parents?"  
"Mm hm," Anne nodded. "We always said goodbye even if we were just going out to the shops. We'd say, 'goodbye, love you lots,' it was our thing. And I never…" she trailed off tears welling up in her eyes.  
"Oh, Anne," Marilla drew her into her lap so that she sat there not really fitting."  
"And it was all my fault," Anne added miserably.  
"What was your fault?"  
"I was being a bit silly in the car, annoying Daddy and then we had the accident. So, I k-k-killed them," Anne burrowed her head into Marilla's shoulder filled with utter remorse.  
Marilla stroked her back, "darling I'm sure that wasn't how it happened. Do you want me to talk to the police constable about the particulars?"  
Unable to articulate anything at that point, Anne nodded into Marilla's shoulder.  
A while later Anne helped Marilla strip the bed and they remade it with fresh sheets. "Do you want to get up, or sleep a bit more?" Marilla asked gently.  
"I'm a bit hungry, can I just get up?"  
"Breakfast is downstairs although I'll have to get you some more cereal it'll be soggy."  
"I'm sorry," Anne said, genuinely contrite.  
Marilla gave her a small smile, "doesn't matter at all."  
Later that morning Marilla had a cigarette to help her think. She hoped what Anne had said wasn't true, not that anyone could have told anyway. Still if the police had any insight, she hoped it would help settle Anne's guilty conscience. She supposed she should have got the particulars at the time, but they were so busy looking after the child they forgot to ask. The police had only told them the basics.  
Matthew came in for afternoon tea first. Marilla filled him in on her morning's work.  
"How do you think she'll react?" he asked.  
"I'm not sure, but I think she deserves the truth, don't you? Or at least a version of it at this stage."  
Matthew nodded as he watched Marilla pull a packet of turnover cookies from the pantry. "None for me?" he smiled.  
"Hush, of course you can have some," Marilla replied slightly guiltily. It was true their diet had changed since Anne arrived.  
When Anne came in, she frowned momentarily. "Don't you like them?" Marilla asked.  
"No, no they're fine. They're just, I dunno," Anne trailed off, unwilling to offend Marilla who after had all been so kind to take her in.  
"Tell me. If you don't like them, I'll buy something else next time."  
"They're an old lady cookie, I guess," Anne explained glancing at them both.  
"They’re what? Um, what would you prefer then?"  
Anne thought for a moment, here was her chance. They usually had peak freens at home and she didn't like them much either. She far preferred the more expensive maple leaf cookies, but that might be a bit of a stretch and could she really manipulate the Cuthberts in that manner?  
Marilla watched interested in her indecision, "you can choose whatever you like, Anne."  
"Maple leaf cookies," Anne blurted out. She felt she had to make a decision on the spot and since they were on her mind, that was the first thing she said.  
Marilla's eyebrows raised in shock the cookies were a bit more costly than most, but it was a small price to pay to make Anne as happy as possible under the circumstances. Anne reached out for an unloved turnover and chewed on it thoughtfully while Marilla sipped her tea. "Anne," Marilla said as she chewed her first turnover. "I spoke to the police after lunch."  
Anne's arm was outreached for another, but stopped when she heard Marilla's statement, "oh?".  
"Yes, they put me through to the detective straightaway. I explained who I was, and he offered his condolences," Marilla said gently. "I told him about your concerns, and he said that your father was not at fault. There was another driver who ran into your car."  
"Damned idiot," Matthew interjected.  
"Yes, so you weren't at fault," continued Marilla above him. "It had nothing to do with you, you mustn't feel guilty. It was just a terrible thing to happen.  
"May I be excused?" Anne asked. She needed time to think.  
"Of course, you may, Anne," they watched her sadly walk up the stairs.  
There was a pause then Matthew said, "so they going to sue the other guy?"  
"He said the case is being prepared. I told him Anne wouldn't be giving evidence and he agreed. She's too young and has been traumatised enough as it is," Marilla replied.  
"Do we need to go to court?"  
"I doubt it. I hope not," Marilla said thoughtfully.  
"I might go up and check on her," Matthew said glancing at the ceiling.  
"Yes, that would be nice," she pointed at the plate and Matthew took it with him.  
Marilla heard him walk up the stairs and sighed, was parenthood always such an emotional rollercoaster?

*/*/*

Six months later Anne was mostly over her nightmares. Marilla actually missed finding a small person in her bed. The first time it happened she had been surprised to find a small body pressed up against her back when she turned over semi-awake at some time in the wee smas. Anne's hair tickled her nose and she woke up suddenly, initially a little upset. As soon as she worked out what was happening, she reached out around Anne's warm body and hugged her close. Anne explained in the morning that she had had a nightmare and was too frightened to sleep alone in her little gabled bedroom. How could Marilla be cross after that explanation? It became a fairly regular occurrence not every night but several times a week she'd find herself hugging the little girl close.  
Anne's dreams were vivid and upsetting; she'd be talking with her parents and suddenly they'd disappear for no reason, just poof gone. She'd run around frantically looking for them, but they'd have gone forever, and she would wake up in tears. Or sometimes it was a monster who came and ate them; sometimes a fire would be licking at her heels and she'd try to save them. The sad thing Anne explained, was that she never remembered they had died when she saw them, so she never made the fuss of them she wanted to while she was awake.  
"Anne!" Marilla called up the stairs. "Time for breakfast." Anne preferred pancakes to toast and while it was more work Marilla was happy enough to oblige. Goodness knows the child had suffered enough change in recent months. If this was enough to start her off on the right track for the day, Marilla was happy enough to make them for her. She patted her own stomach easing the waist of her pants with her thumb, it didn't do her figure much good though.  
They had introduced Anne to their small community, and she made friends almost immediately with Diana Barry who lived down the road. Matthew and Marilla were pleased they knew it was one more problem to address when Anne sorrowfully mentioned that she was missing her friends from home. They encouraged her to write, but knew it was a far cry from sleepovers with friends and the normal activities children her age enjoyed.  
Anne sat desultorily down at the kitchen table to write letters to her old friend one wet Tuesday afternoon her feet drumming against the chair legs. Marilla tried not to look at her with her pen poised over the paper and instead put on the kettle followed by the radio; it was time for The Young and the Irritable. Small glances Anne's way showed that there was not much progress being made until eventually Anne scraped her chair out and ran off to her room. Marilla sighed, she had been losing interest in the ridiculous goings-on on the radio show lately. Their troubles seemed so insignificant now. Frankly she was slightly embarrassed she ever let it take over her life like it had. Gulping the last of her coffee Marilla pushed off from the table with both hands and made her way up to Anne's room.  
When she first arrived Anne's room was bare but they spent some time and money making it more comfortable. A trip to the store in town, perusal of a catalogue and a trip back to Anne's old home had furnished the room so that it now more closely resembled any other young girls' room. There were posters on the walls from some pop band that Anne adored. Hitherto Marilla had heard of the Beetles was it, in passing only.  
Through the closed door Marilla could hear sobbing, she paused. She knew the value of a good cry but thought Anne might need some comforting. She knocked softly.  
"G'way," Anne called through her sobs.  
"Anne, I do understand, I just wanted you to know." There was no answer barring a fresh outbreak of sobs.  
"I just don't know what to do?" Marilla blurted out to Rachel later that afternoon. "She's upset and of course I understand why. I just wish I knew what would help her."  
"Now, now, I expect nothing can right now, except time. Speaking of time, I should start dinner." Rachel said glancing up the clock. Thomas would be home soon, and she was anxious to have his dinner ready. Thomas did not like to wait for his evening meal. She rubbed a fresh bruise on her arm ruefully then pulled a bag of potatoes over and started peeling. Absentmindedly Marilla joined her.  
"It's not easy being thirteen even with live parents and now she must feel so unstable," Marilla said thinking it through, "do you think she should go start school now or wait until after Christmas?" she carved around the curve of the tuber, dropping the peel into a pile.  
Rachel placed another skinned potato into the saucepan with a satisfying plop and picked up the next while she thought the situation through, "there are pros and cons aren't there. I mean do you think she's ready for the rough and tumble of a new school? On the other hand, she might need some stimulation. What does the social worker have to say?"  
"She thinks she should go. It's not just that she's missing out on her education, but she needs to get on with her life here," Marilla replied thoughtfully. "But I don't know? She's so fragile. I suppose I could talk to the school."  
*/*/* Carmody Elementary School received a wide range of children and was considered one of the best on the Island. Marilla stood at its entrance looking up at its high red walls; it had been decades since she had crossed the threshold. Firmly grasping her handbag, she made her way through the front door and enquired at the office. She described Anne's circumstances to the principal who agreed that it would be good to let Anne start school and assured Marilla that they would keep an eye on her. Half an hour later Anne was enrolled and would start the next week.

There were plenty of children who took the school bus from Avonlea and other nearby towns, but it was with some trepidation that Matthew and Marilla escorted her to the bus stop that Monday morning. Anne was nervous she had loved her old school, but it was quite another thing to front up to a new one where she barely knew a soul. She had begged Marilla to let her cut her despised red hair, but Marilla thought that was a terrible idea and instead they plaited so that it looked less fulsome; a compromise Anne was not particularly happy with. As she said to Marilla over breakfast that morning, she felt the other children might like her better if she were prettier, if her hair was not so outrageously red.  
Diana waved to Anne from a seat near the back of the bus. Anne made her way down, clutching at the backs of the seats so as not to overbalance and plopped down next to Diana with relief. When they arrived, Diana introduced Anne to very many people. Anne tried to repeat all the names she heard, but she soon got lost. All she could remember was that there were a Josie and a Ruby and the rest was just noise.  
It happened after lunch. A brown-haired boy whom Diana had introduced Anne to that morning decided to have a little fun with the new girl. Leaning over to her desk while the teacher's back was turned, he whispered, "carrots," in her ear and yanked her plait. Anne felt red hot indignation both from the slur and the hurt to her head and without thinking she swung around and hit him with her encyclopaedia. The boy staggered and fell back with a grunt. The teacher heard and turned around unbelievingly. She had been informed about Anne but could not believe she would prove to be a troublemaker so soon.  
"Anne Shirley, come up here at once. I don't know what sort of behaviour is deemed acceptable in that town you called home. But here in a civilised society we do not go around hitting boys. Are you okay, Gilbert?"  
Gilbert that was his name Anne thought to herself pleased she had a name for her tormenter, Diana had introduced her to a lot of people that morning and she had forgotten his name.  
"I'm fine Miss. It was my fault, I teased her."  
"That is hardly a justification for violence. Anne come here I want you to stand in the corner for the rest of the class. You can reflect on appropriate ways to behave in school."  
When Anne arrived home, she poured the whole sorry tale out to Marilla and later Marilla recounted it to Matthew who said, "she hit a boy? Golly! Who was it?"  
"Well that's the thing, you'll never guess. It was John Blythe's son, Gilbert," she explained.  
"A Blythe huh," said Matthew with raised eyebrows. "She's gonna fit into this family real good then."  
"Matthew!" Marilla said accusingly. "You mustn't say such things."

*/*/*

Christmas was coming and Marilla was keen to make it as festive as possible for Anne. It was always going to be a hard time of the year.  
Anne had dropped hints about what she wanted. There was a new Barbie doll that she had played with at Diana's house. Diana had the full set; the doll, her wardrobe, her house, her car. What sort of doll had a car? thought Marilla. The only toy she didn't have was Barbie's boyfriend; Mrs Barry did not approve of the bump he had in his trousers. She thought it was too suggestive for little girls.  
For her part Marilla did not approve of buying American toys in the first place and instead went looking for a nice Canadian doll. She was delighted to find just the thing. Anne would be delighted. "Look Matthew," Marilla showed him the box she had bought at Eaton's, "I even found one with red hair," she said proudly.  
"Hm," said Matthew speculatively.  
"Don't you like it? She's a bone fide Canadian Mitzi doll. Far superior to those repulsive Barbies she wanted. I think she'll love it."  
"She looks kinda bitter*, don't you think?" Matthew commented.  
Marilla turned the doll around and regarded her carefully, "I don't know what you're talking about. She looks just fine and has better proportions than that horrible American Barbie." Marilla wrapped the doll in some garish Christmas paper she had bought at the store that morning. Not that it was nice, but it always did make the house look more festive when colourful presents lay wrapped under the tree.  
On Christmas Day Marilla was nearly as excited as Anne herself. They sat around the Christmas Tree handing out presents to each other. Marilla was practically bouncing with excitement when she handed her present over to Anne.  
Anne took the box solemnly and felt its weight. She was pretty sure what was going to be inside and looked up at Marilla in gratitude. She had always felt a bit pathetic when they played dolls at Diana's house. The other girls bought their Barbies over to play with Diana's impressive array of Barbie peripherals. Diana's Barbie had an impressive wardrobe and the girls loved nothing other than dressing them all up. Anne always had to borrow a doll from someone lessening her pleasure. Now with a Barbie of her own she would be the equal of her friends and could throw herself into the fun.  
Slowly she unwrapped the box taking pleasure in the anticipation. Marilla watched impatiently eagerly waiting for her reaction. Eventually the wrapping fell away and the Mitzi doll was there for all to see. Anne was stunned. What was this thing? This abomination. It wasn't Barbie it was it was... what on earth was it? She looked at the packaging, Mitzi!  
The other week the girls had teased any poor owners of the far inferior Mitzi doll, calling them losers. Tears sprang to Anne's eyes and she looked up at Marilla in an attempt to politely say thank you. Despite her disappointment at some level she knew she still had to show her appreciation, even if she were dying inside.  
It was not the reaction Marilla had been expecting, "don't you like her? Look she even has red hair like you," she pointed out. "I thought she looked perfect."  
The red hair comment was too much. Didn't Marilla understand the depths of Anne's hatred of her own red hair? What made her think Anne would want a doll that looked like her? Anne threw the doll away towards the chimney and ran out of the room sobbing.  
Marilla looked at Matthew in shock. She had tried so hard but somehow had got it completely wrong. Matthew just shrugged his shoulders and went to fetch more wood for the fire. Lunch was late and eaten in silence.

A week later Matthew was seen by a curious neighbour in the toy section of Eaton's nervously lurking around the doll shelves.  
Anne greeted him that afternoon and made her way up to her bedroom. She had had a hard week. All her friends had shared their Christmas presents and Anne had no choice but to join in, making light of the fact that she had received the wretched Mitzi doll. When the others offered their condolences, it was almost worse. All Anne wanted was to fit in and now she felt more apart from them than ever. They lived at home with their mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and Anne was stuck with two old relatives who had no understanding of what it was like to be a young girl.  
Stomp, stomp, stomp Anne made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She hated it here, it was cold, damp and the pleasures of town were far away. She missed her friends she missed her parents; her life was horrible. All those thoughts were forgotten however when she spied a large package on her bed. She raced over and tore open the wrapping. Matthew stood behind her his face widely grinning. She looked back and gave him the biggest smile. Inside was Barbie, her house, a convertible car and an assortment of dresses. Best of all there was even a Ken doll. "Oh Matthew," she breathed. "It must have been so expensive."  
"We just want you to be happy," Matthew said over the top of her head as they hugged each other tightly.

* Google the Mitzi Doll and tell me if you agree with Matthew.


	11. We Can Work it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne is growing up and facing all sorts of pitfalls. Marilla struggles to keep up.

Rachel came in one Saturday afternoon when the new television could be heard in the sitting room. Marilla was in the kitchen, "Anne's just watching something. I don't let her watch it through the day as a rule, but she said it was for school."

"She'll get square eyes that's what," Rachel chided. "I heard of a case over in Bright River where that happened, and the doctor is at a loss." Marilla turned the radio off and fetched a cigarette. If Rachel was going to go on like that, she needed fortification.

One cold blustery Friday afternoon Marilla was listening to a talkback radio show while she knitted. Suddenly the program was interrupted by a special news broadcast. Her knitting fell away as she listened in shock, three shots had been fired at the American presidential motorcade in Dallas, Texas and President Kennedy had been pronounced dead shortly afterwards; she felt as though nothing would ever be the same again. Marilla was not particularly political, but Kennedy always seemed like a force for good in this difficult world. Mathew found her in tears in the kitchen and rushed to her side, "what's the matter? What's happened?" He sank to a nearby chair when she told him, and they looked at each other in stunned amazement. It was Matthew who moved first, he turned on the television and they sat there watching the coverage unfold; commenting to each other when developments occurred, but otherwise speechless. When Anne burst in from school she reported they had spoken of nothing else all afternoon. A distraught teacher had brought a television set into the classroom, believing that this was an historical moment.

Everywhere they went over the next few weeks the talk was the same wherever they went; discussions about why, how and who were only intensified when the supposed assassin Lee Harvey Oswald was himself killed by an unknown assassin two days later. It was a tense time. Even though little Prince Edward Island seemed a long way from the world shattering events, folks were affected by the ramifications and wondered what would happen next. It felt to Marilla as if the very foundations of the world were crumbling.

*/*/*

The words I hate you hung in the air as the door slammed shut behind Anne.

"She's just testing you, Marilla," Rachel soothed later. "They all do it. She's just sorting out her boundaries."

"I suppose so. It's exhausting," Marilla said with a sigh dragging on her cigarette. "She's plastered posters all over her bedroom walls, some band called the Beetles. We can hear the music throughout the house, though I can't understand a single word, it's all wahh wahh wahhs as Matthew calls them."

"Lucy is the same. I don't know what they see in them."

"And when I talk to her about it," Marilla continued with a nod to say she'd heard Rachel. "She just slams the door in my face."

"She's a teenager, they're supposed to be defiant."

"Were we this bad?"

"It was different for us. Maybe if we asked our own mothers, they'd say we were rude and sassy too."

Marilla rested her head in her hands and heaved a great sigh. "If I'd known it was going to be like this..."

Rachel leaned over and patted her on the shoulder, "it's not all that bad. We all muddle through."

After a quiet enough start, Anne was beginning to reveal her true feisty nature. Sparks were bound to fly. Matthew found he had a new role, that of peace maker. "Now, now, he'd say to Anne. "She's just worried about you is all."

"She's driving me crazy," Anne would invariably reply. If she wanted to pull out the trump card, she could cut Marilla to the quick by exclaiming that her mother was the better parent, "Mom would have let me," she'd scream. Though Marilla was perfectly sure Bertha Shirley wouldn't have let Anne attend that dance, concert or party especially on a school night. Marilla began to feel that Anne would only be satisfied when tears sprang to her eyes. "Anne, please stop doing that," Matthew would placate. "You really hurt her feelings."

"Good!" Anne would scream back at him. "I want her feelings to be hurt. That party is really important to me. Doesn't she want me to be happy, doesn't she want me to have any friends? I hate her!"

"Well know, that's a shame. She loves you so much," Matthew would gently reply.

"If she loved me, she'd let me go." Anne's red face would intensify in the light of Matthew's sad stare. "Everyone else is going!" Anne tried to keep up the fury, but it was hard to rail against someone like placid Matthew; Marilla was a better sparring partner, she would arc up satisfactorily.

*/*/*

One winter's afternoon when the wind outside was howling Diana came to visit. The girls were lounging around Anne's bedroom listening to the latest Beatles album and swooning over a magazine. "Hungry?" Anne asked.

"Hey, I bought some brownie. We bought it at the church bake sale," Diana explained as she pulled the lumpy slice out of her bag.

"Oh yum, you're brilliant Di." Anne smelled the cake instead of the usual chocolately aroma it smelt a bit musty. "Does it smell a bit strange to you?"

Diana sniffed it, "smells okay to me. Don't tell me you're fussy all of a sudden?"

"No, of course not. It's delicious," Anne stuffed piece after piece of the deliciously fudgy brownie into her mouth, scooping the crumbs up with her fingers. Eventually they lay back satisfied, their mouths smeared with chocolate. Anne could feel it creamy on her lips and attempted to clean herself up a bit wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Diana could see that she didn't do a particularly good job.

Diana sniggered at the sight of Anne's chocolately chin and soon Anne joined her, though she wasn't sure what she was laughing at. The two of them collapsed onto each other giggling uncontrollably. A sense of profound joy settled over them both and they lay back on the bed looking up at the Beatle poster Anne had bought in town the other month. It was a source of much upset on Marilla's part. "What do you think of Billy?" Anne said teasingly.

Diana made an exaggerated gagging noise, "Billy? Please! I thought you'd be asking me about Gilbert?" she replied with a teasing tone. Anne tried to roll her eyes and nearly fell off the bed.

The record finished and they listened to the white noise of the record trundling around aimlessly for a minute or so before Diana clumsily got off the bed. "Careful," said Anne giggling.

"Oops, forgot about the stylus," Diana turned to Anne with a big grin on her face. It took her a few goes to get the needle back on the record and it scratched a few times, but eventually the new tones of Any Time At All were wafting around the house. "S'not my fav," Diana slurred. Anne shook her head emphatically whether because she agreed or disagreed wasn't clear, but Diana was past caring either way.

"Turn that music down!" Marilla yelled up the stairs.

Diana made to do so, but Anne arrested her movement. "She'll survive, I'm trying to educate them about good music."

"And where else better to start?"

"That's what I said."

"Anne!" Marilla called again.

There was a pause for a while then out the blue Diana asked, "Ringo, Paul, John or George?"

"John every time. He's dreamy," Anne replied.

"Thought you'd go for Ringo," said Diana with a smile.

"Ringo! As if, he's so dorky," Anne mimicked him playing the drums. Diana joined in crooning, "love me doo-ooo-ooo."

They lapsed into silence once more, Anne was transfixed by the design on her blanket; interwoven threads suggesting a myriad of worlds within. She rolled onto her stomach the better to investigate them. Slowly she traced the thread of the wool around and over and…

"Diana! Anne! Where are you?" Mrs Barry's voice

"Oh shit, that's Mom," said Diana, giggling.

"Diana? What's going on?" asked Eliza taking in the scene before her. The girls were laying on the dishevelled bed cake crumbs in their hair and smooshed into the bedclothes.

"Hi Eliza," Diana drawled.

"Yeah, hi Eliza," Anne joined her. They looked at each other and then giggled collapsing against each other and practically falling off the bed.

"Diana? What's happening. Diana! look at me when I'm talking to you."

Diana stroked her cheek ignoring her mother instead asking Anne, "is this my face?" slowly enunciating the words with great care, "have I still got a face?"

Eliza turned to face Marilla who had walked up the stairs behind her, "this is a disgraceful situation. I knew you Cuthberts were unconventional, but this is beyond the pale."

"Now, now Eliza it's not Anne's fault," Marilla said defensively.

"Of course, it's not Anne's fault," Mrs Barry rounded on Marilla. "It's yours, I can't imagine what you were doing with drugs in the house in the first place?"

"Drugs? I don't have any drugs in the house. I smoke tobacco, that's all," said Marilla indignantly.

Diana was listening to the women bicker but not really taking their words in. She looked at Anne and they burst into laughter. "Girls this is serious. Where did you get the drugs from?" Mrs Barry asked.

"Drugs Mom? We haven't taken any drugs. Have we taken any drugs Anne?" Diana turned to Anne who was shaking her head vehemently.

"Well you've got something in your system. What is it? I demand to know," Mrs Barry found the paper bag under Anne's bed pulled it out and smelt it. She went pale and turned to Marilla, "Oh dear, I must apologise. I think this is ours. We bought at the church bake sale yesterday afternoon.

Marilla crossed her arms and looked back her pointedly, "maybe this will give you pause next time you go falsely accusing someone, Eliza." They turned and looked at the girls who were giggling uncontrollably.

"I suppose I had better take her home. I am sorry, Marilla."

"Mom, I'm so hungry," giggled Diana. "Can we get some fries on our way? Bye bye Anne," she waved merrily.

"Ugh," Eliza dragged Diana out of the house.

Anne was rather giggly herself as she waved back at Diana, then she turned to Marilla speaking through a massive yawn, "mm, I'm really hungry too, Marilla," she said scratching her arm. "What's for dinner?" From personal experience Marilla knew now was not the time to take Anne to task. Instead she walked to the kitchen to start on dinner. Anne was mostly likely hungry and would wheedle until she was fed.

*/*/*

"What is it?"

"Let's see."

The gaggle of girls clambered around to get a better look. Anne's bedroom was crammed with teenage girls over for a slumber party.

"It's a Ouija board, you use it to talk to the spirits," Josie explained knowingly.

"Oh Josie, I don't like the sound of that," Ruby squeaked. "My mom wouldn't approve."

"You can go home if you wish, Ruby," Josie said haughtily. "It's perfectly safe, though I grant you it's also deliciously scary," she shivered as she said it her eyes alight with possibilities.

Josie explained how it worked and they all put one hand on the pointer. When it moved Tilly cried, "you moved it Josie!"

"I swear I didn't. Look where is it now?"

"Oh, it's moving towards the beginning of the alphabet," breathed Jane. The pointer stopped at B just long enough for them all to take note and then moved to the right stopping at W. "B and W? What does that mean?"

Anne went quiet then whispered, "that's my parents' initials. Bertha and Walter Shirley." She could feel all sets of eyes staring at her avidly.

It was quiet in Anne's bedroom, Marilla assumed they'd dropped off to sleep exhausted after their dance party. The music had been too loud and really too awful, but they had told Anne she might have one and a slumber party to follow so they grinned and bore it. Marilla thought she had better pop her head in just to check all was safe. She cracked the door open and was shocked to find instead of being asleep the girls were huddled around a spot on the floor, "what is going on?" asked Marilla suddenly suspicious as she flicked the light switch. The girls startled and blinked in the brightness, one of them even gave a small shriek. Marilla strode across to look over their heads. "What is that?" she said pointing at a wooden board on the floor lit by various candles.

There was a silence until Josie said bravely, "it's a Ouija board. We're trying to contact Anne's parents."

"I beg your pardon?" Marilla said frostily.

"See Miss Cuthbert we all put our hands on the pointer and the spirits tell us where to move it to," Josie explained. "So far it's spelt out B and W. We think that must mean Bertha and Walter, you know Anne's real parents. "

"What nonsense. I thought you'd have more sense. I'm disappointed in you Anne. Girls it's time for bed, but first give me that," Marilla ordered pointing at the board. "And blow out those candles they're a fire hazard." She stalked off with the board held in both hands meaning to throw it out the next day.

After everyone had gone home Marilla walked into Anne's bedroom. Anne was tidying up. She had not said one word to Marilla since their séance had been interrupted. Marilla watched her at work for a moment then walked over to help her move the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No," in a very small voice.

Marilla hoped Anne would come to it in her own time but she was dismayed. She expected Anne was upset at having her all her friends witness her parental authority, but honestly, she could not countenance séances being performed in her own house. "Lunch will be ready soon," she said and left Anne to it.

Anne came slowly down the stairs a quarter of an hour later. She felt very contrite but unable to think of a way to confess to Marilla. The séance had been Josie's idea. Anne was unsure how she felt about contacting her parents, what good would it do? It would have been nice to say a proper good-bye, but she didn't think she could do it with everyone crowding around. If she cried the others would think she was a baby. Tears ran down her face unbidden at the thought of it now and she tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand as she walked into the kitchen. Marilla had her back to her though she could hear Anne's slow footsteps. When she turned around Anne was visibly crying. The lunch was forgotten as she gathered the girl into her arms.

Anne was unable to speak for a while, sobbing instead on Marilla's shoulder. Marilla guided her over to a seat and they sat down together so Anne could pour the whole sorry tale out to her. Josie had brought the thing and they were all intrigued by its possibilities. Only Anne had recently lost someone, and Josie thought it would be fun, Anne gave another sob at the word 'fun' to try to contact her parents. "It was all just a game to her, Marilla. But what if I could speak to them again? What could I say with everyone crowding around?"

"I understand, Anne. If ever you could, it would be a private moment wouldn't it."

"Uh huh," Anne nodded, sniffling. Marilla reached around and pulled a tissue out of the box and handed it over to Anne who heartily blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry I was cross with you Anne and I'm sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your friends. I was shocked is all."

"I'm kinda happy you did interrupt us, actually," Anne said with a small smile. "I was worried where it would end up."

"This way you can blame me and save face."

"I guess so."

"The girls will most likely feel sorry for you having such a stern mother,"

Anne grinned, "but I'll know different."

"That's right, you'll know I'm on your side. Shall we have the pie I bought for lunch? I don't want it to get burnt. Matthew will be in in a moment. Wash up now and we'll eat."

Anne looked up at her as Marilla bustled away, "I love you Marilla."

"I love you too, Anne. I'm sorry for the circumstances in which it happened but I am happy you came here to live with us," it was too stilted, but Marilla was never very good at expressing her emotions. Inwardly berating herself for her clumsy expression she continued, "I'd like us to be better friends again Anne. I feel I've lost touch with you lately. A young woman will always grow apart from her parents at some point, I understand. But I can't help thinking you resent us half the time." Anne's reply was unintelligible. Marilla plunged on regardless, "but if we can be friends again I would like that."

Anne walked over to her and silently gave her a big hug. Matthew found them embracing in the kitchen, happy that the two women he loved most in the world were reconciling, he hated it when they argued.


	12. To Die, To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew collapses but thanks to modern medicine survives. There is time for reflection for all members of the family.

To Die, To Sleep*

"Right I'm off to bed," Matthew said as he tapped his pipe out into the ashtray. Marilla thought afterwards that they were lucky it happened in the house and not out in the fields, but it was bad enough as it was. She heard a sort of strangled, "arrgh" coming from Matthew as he sunk to the floor on his way to his bedroom. "Matthew! Matthew!" she ran to his prostrate form laying like a sack of potatoes in his bedroom doorway. Unable to revive him Marilla panicked and called an ambulance. Lights flashing and siren sounding it had appeared as if in a dream, red and blue lights illuminating the landscape eerily. Two paramedics burst into the house finding Matthew cradled in Marilla's lap as she willed him to live. In her shock Marilla was reluctant to relinquish his care to their tender mercies and they had to rather roughly manhandle her away to save their stricken patient.

Hovering anxiously at the edge of the room Marilla watched them perform CPR then hook him up to all sorts and load him on a gurney. A kind paramedic offered to let her ride with them to the hospital. Unsurprisingly Rachel's lime green Volvo followed the ambulance up the lane, and she appeared to tell Marilla that she would lock the house and ring Anne. She helped Marilla pack a few necessities, listening to her gabble away in her panic without much comment. She watched as Marilla climbed into the ambulance to sit on a little stool and watched her brother struggle for life.

After Marilla dazedly signed the necessary consent forms Matthew was rushed into surgery. Anne arrived in a rush bringing the scent of a snowy night into the room with her and they embraced before Marilla filled her in and they hugged each other tightly and sat in the corridor fretting. Occasionally one made a small comment about the time passing or what might be happening now, but for the most part they sat in stunned silence. It had all been so quick; one moment he had been reasonably hale and hearty, the next out flat on an operating table. Matthew had always suffered from a weak heart, but they thought it was under control. Now he was under the knife undergoing a protracted bypass operation. The doctor had explained it to them; it was a risky, reasonably new procedure but Matthew's only chance at survival.

The mood shifted as they remembered the day prior and now Anne and Marilla sat in stony silence. They had argued and if Matthew hadn't collapsed it was doubtful they'd be in the same room now. Both women were studiously ignoring each other yet darting quick glances back and forth until they finally picked the wrong second and found themselves looking at each other.

Anne spoke first, "I haven't been here since that time with Gilbert remember, when our braces got locked together?"*

Marilla laughed briefly, "how could I forget? The sight of you both locked in that lover's embrace, I didn't even know you and Gilbert were that close."

"We weren't really. We were just a bit drunk and we had a quick kiss. It went on a bit longer than we anticipated."

"About three hours longer."

"Mm hm," Anne giggled. "Never been so happy to see wire cutters in my life. I suppose I caused you no end of worry," she added.

"We-ll it's true to say I slept easier when I heard the front door click when you arrived home after a party."

"I never knew you could hear it." Anne thought back to all those nights she had taken her shoes off at the door and crept noiselessly up the stairs. Marilla had known all along, "you never said anything."

"Rachel advised me to pick my battles. Even I don't like fighting all the time."

"Do you want some coffee?" Anne asked. "I'm just going to get one."

After she set a cup into Marilla's outstretched hands, she continued their conversation, "but you've had enough to say about Roy," she was thinking back to the previous day's fight.

"Yes," Marilla sighed then sipped her coffee, inhaling its spicy aroma as she collected her thoughts, "Anne, Roy reminds me of a boy I used to go out with."

"You used to go out with a, a boy?" This was news to Anne who thought Marilla wasn't that way disposed.

"Don't look that way Anne, I had a whole life before you joined us."

"No, I don't mean that, I know you did. It's just I never really thought you liked men…"

"Oh that, um well I suppose one might say I wasn't always this way inclined and I suppose the reason I am is due in part to him."

"Tell me about him, what was his name?"

Marilla laughed mirthlessly, "his name. Well his name was Jean Pouce. It means John Thumb."

Anne blushed, "thumb? I hope it wasn't suggestive of..."

Marilla raised her eyebrows, "well anyway Jean was a bully. I didn't realise it until much later, but he liked to put me down and then blame me for it."

"Gaslighting," suggested Anne.

"Hm?" said Marilla having never heard the term before.

"When someone blames you for something they did, it's called gaslighting. Typical bullying behaviour, I'm afraid."

"Yes, well even though I'd never heard that term that is what he did. He took a job that I should have gotten and later he made it look as if I was complicit in his deceit.

"Deceit?"

"He embezzled money from the company and made it look as if I were involved," Marilla explained.

"Oh no!"

"So that was pretty much the end of our relationship. In fact, I never heard from him again."

"Marilla," Anne was aghast. "He was your boyfriend and he used you that way?"

"Yes, and I'm not saying that Roy will do that to you, but there are some things you've said that worry me."

"It's different these days," Anne said petulantly. "Times have changed. We're equals."

"So long as that doesn't mean you do all the work and he just lays around enjoying himself."

"No of course not. I mean, um, not all the time…" Anne trailed off. If she were being completely honest, sometimes he did do that. Roy would bang on about how they were a partnership but all that seemed to mean was that she bought her own dinner at restaurants she couldn't afford. He'd explain it saying, "I don't want to demean you by buying you dinner," and then he'd order another bottle of expensive wine.

"All I'm asking Anne, is does he make you feel special?"

Anne went to answer her flippantly but at that moment someone else entered the room. If questioned later Anne could recall the moment she decided to dump Roy; Marilla sitting next to her sipping her coffee, the low buzz of the fluorescent lights, the antiseptic smell of the hospital with its scuffed walls, and her realisation that really Roy never did make her feel like the one.

Marilla started laughing out of the blue. "What? What?" Anne asked completely confused.

"Oh," said Marilla tears running down her cheeks. "I just remembered the time you found my ahem - personal toy and you asked why it vibrated."** Now she was laughing at Anne's obvious discomfort.

"Excuse me," a nurse popped her head in. "Would you mind keeping it down. There are sick people here."

Semi-chastened Marilla attempted to stop but Anne could see her whole body convulsing with mirth. "I thought it was a big lipstick, I tried to apply it," she said her blush rising. Marilla snort laughed and then tried to hold it back in again before blurting out, "excuse me." She ran out of the room through the hospital doors and found a secluded spot to let go her laughter. Unexpectedly Marilla realised she was crying as her emotion got the better of her.

When Marilla eventually returned, she sat back down and apologised.

"Not at all," Anne murmured. "I suppose," she said. "I suppose it wasn't easy for you."

"What?"

"Becoming a parent out of the blue. I haven't helped."

"You've been fine. I've loved every moment of it."

"Every moment?" Anne asked with a smile.

"Well, maybe not every moment. I mean I was a bit angry the time you and Diana pierced each other's ears with a needle."

Anne smiled, "I had asked, and you'd refused. One night we just got the needle out. I thought you'd have been angrier when I dyed my hair green."

"What was the point? You were miserable enough already, what more could I say? You've had your hair cut again I see."

Anne ran her hand over the back of her head absentmindedly, "do you like it?"

Marilla regarded her pixie cut and nodded, "yes, it suits you."

The ICU was stark and brightly lit. Matthew lay completely still apart from the gentle rise and fall of his chest; tubes ran from orifices natural and man-made to various machines which kept him alive. The nursing staff warned them that it would be confronting to see him hooked up. Patients fought the respirator, the doctor explained; so he had been placed in a medically induced coma to let his body recover. The surgery had gone well now there was nothing to do but wait. Marilla had brought her knitting, she sat by his bedside and did just that; thankful to have something to occupy her. She and Anne took it in turns to sit vigil, murmuring words of comfort to each other before dashing home for some much-needed sleep. Rachel kept the pantry stocked so that when either one returned home there was food in the fridge to hastily reheat in the microwave before falling into an exhausted sleep.

Nurses came and went performing tests, checking his monitors and writing the stats on his chart. "He's doing fine," one said to Marilla with a small smile. When she left Marilla straightened his sheets and brushed his hair, bending down to whisper to hang in there. Matthew was unresponsive.

Matthew had woken from his coma but was still in the ICU. Anne and Marilla had told him what had happened, and he agitatedly apologised for causing them concern. After telling him not to worry, they got him resettled.

Hospitals are noisy Marilla realised one afternoon. Announcements over the tannoy, code blue, red, gray etc, staff coming in and out to perform tests, check on patients, bathing, meals being delivered, visitors coming and going; it never ended. She had always supposed they would be places of calm, but nothing could be further from the truth. She longed to get Matthew home to the ever-peaceful Green Gables where she could nurse him herself.

Matthew gave a great hurrumph and coughed, his whole chest rumbling and straining. Marilla looked up suddenly. A nurse entered and checked his vitals. She smiled at Marilla and murmured that he was doing as well as could be expected. Marilla left the room for a few minutes; she needed the bathroom and a drink. He was awake when she returned, looking somewhat inundated by the bed. Summoning his energy, he licked his lips and fumbled at the sheets his work-worn fingers looking grubby against the stark white. "Do you want some water? Marilla enquired. She wiped a drop off his stubbly chin afterwards then Matthew closed his eyes and slept. Marilla watched his chest rise and fall.

"You've always been so good to me," Matthew said out of the blue.

"We've cared for each other," Marilla replied soothingly.

"Couldn'ta done it without you," Matthew reiterated. "Anne?"

"She's on her way. She had an exam this morning, I told her to come across later. Unless?" Matthew looked at her. "Unless you're planning on going somewhere."

Matthew smiled, "no I'm staying right here, Mar. Not goin nowhere."

"Well that's good then, we need you. Get some rest now. When you wake, she'll be with you," Matthew obediently closed his eyes and let himself drift off.

Marilla woke with a start at a noise outside, when she looked up, she saw Rachel's head craning in the doorway, "Oh, I didn't want to wake you, I do apologise. You don't look very comfortable there, they should give you a better chair." Marilla stretched her aching muscles it was true it was not very comfy. She was reminded of the chairs they sat on when they first met Anne all those years ago. Her neck was particularly sore, and she rubbed it to ease the knot that had formed. Rachel came over to give her neck a massage and the sensation of those warm firm hands was particularly welcome. "You go wash up and get some breakfast," Rachel offered. "I'll mind him."

Marilla looked up at her with gratitude, "are you sure?"

"Of course," Rachel reached out her hand to help Marilla to her feet and then said, "shoo. Off you go." Marilla walked off stomping a bit as the blood returned to her feet. After she had freshened up at a bathroom basin and bolted down a bit of food and a coffee at the hospital cafeteria, she felt far more human and ready to face another day by Matthew's bedside. "Any change?" she asked Rachel when she returned.

Rachel appraised her and said, "there you look human again. No, he's resting peacefully. Has he woken at all?"

"He did briefly, last night he opened his eyes and looked around then fell asleep again," Marilla explained. "We even had a short chat."

"That's good, that must have made you feel better. Like he's on the mend."

"I hope so," Marilla sighed.

"Just think Marilla, if he'd been born one hundred years ago, he probably wouldn't have made it."

Marilla shivered as if someone had walked over her grave, "please don't, Rachel. I can't bear to think of losing him," tears welled in Marilla's eyes as she pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. "It was just the two of us for so many years, I can't imagine my life without him."

"I am sorry, of course. I shouldn't have said anything," Rachel smiled at her and patted her hand.

"No, it's alright, I mean the same thought has crossed my mind. We are so lucky to live in a time when medical miracles can occur. This surgery sounded quite incredible." Marilla described what they had done, Rachel was suitably impressed and looked at Matthew in amazement. "And all for free?"

"Yes, that too. It's wonderful."

Matthew was deemed well enough to be moved to the general ward, a large room he shared with three other patients. His bed was surrounded by a curtain to afford him some privacy, but they could hear movement beyond. A fluorescent light flickered out in the corridor just close enough to bother the periphery of her vision. Marilla got up to adjust the curtain and wondered if it annoyed Matthew in his slumber. She held his old thin hand carefully avoiding the drip cabling. He looked old, old and frail with a grey pallor to his cheeks. Matthew may have always been unobtrusive but never quite as quiet as now. It had been a long time since she had really studied her brother, he had been a constant in her life forever. There whether she needed him or not. "Have you really loved anyone?"

He opened his eyes and she realised with a start that she had spoken out loud. Licking his lips uncomfortably he made a thick rasping sound. Marilla reached over for the glass of water on the bedside table and stood up to help him. He cleared his throat again and nodded sounding easier now. "Just one," he said wistfully.

"Who?" Marilla asked wonderingly. Matthew always seemed disinterested in people of either gender but when she looked at him, he had fallen asleep again.

Anne was there when Matthew next woke in the dim room. He smiled at her broadly, his girl whom he loved more than life itself. Anne was reading, she was shocked to see him staring at her when she glanced up from her book. "Well good morning there," she said.

Matthew smiled, "morning. Is it morning?"

Anne glanced at her watch, "it's five fifteen, definitely morning."

"The cows will be gettin' restless," Matthew commented.

"Not to worry, Marilla has it in hand."

Matthew sighed, "I miss it."

"The first golden rays are sneaking over the horizon illuminating the frost blanketing each blade of grass," Anne said softly describing a sight Matthew had seen every day of his life. "The stock have made dark green tracks in the frosty pasture on their way to the milking shed," she continued. "Their breath condenses in the cold air in great clouds." Matthew lay back picturing the images Anne described to him, feeling that he was back there in familiar surroundings instead of stranded in his sterile hospital bed. Anne continued until well after he had drifted off to sleep again. She yawned when she ran out of words and leaned back to rest herself.

Rachel came to visit him the next afternoon. They found her a spare chair and they all sat around his bed, "how do you feel Matthew?" Rachel asked.

"Like I just went ten rounds with Cassius Clay," Matthew said drowsily.

"Muhammad Ali," Anne corrected him quietly but no one took any notice.

"I'm sure you do dear," Rachel said in commiseration.

Fall passed in glorious display of crimson and golden colours until the first snow buried the leafy carpet and still Matthew was laid up. "Tell me," Matthew would ask Anne and ever the wordsmith she would describe Green Gables in intricate detail, pointing out features he'd walked past without ever noticing, "low hanging shafts of sun catch the dew drops hanging from spider webs creating dainty filigrees suspended in the bare branches." He could close his eyes and picture their dainty work, something he'd never really taken any notice of in times past. He marvelled that she could bring it to mind so effortlessly now. She told him about the cross hatching of ice in a bucket or the smell of freshly fallen snow and the way falling snowflakes danced in the wind backlit by the backdoor light; like ballet dancers conducted by the wind, or about the piles of snow on the outdoor furniture looking like feather cushions.

Matthew had always adored how Anne could weave a story out of nothing and never more than now. She could turn a dull grey bed-bound day into an adventure. Naturally, she had her own life to lead and he knew he had to let her go live it, but he did love it when he saw her beautiful red hair appear around his bedroom door. He and Marilla had long run out of things to talk about, but Anne was full of news of outside and when that dried up wove new stories to amuse him.

One cool early spring day Matthew was finally strong enough to venture outside again. Leaning on Anne and Marilla's shoulders they shuffled him through the front door and helped him sit on the porch bench where he could enjoy the sight he had missed for so long. Green Gables was stretched out before him waiting for the moment he was strong enough to rejoin it.

* Hamlet, William Shakespeare

** This sounds like an urban myth, but in fact it did happen to a boss of mine. She and her boyfriend were kissing at a party and their braces got entwined. At first their friends just thought they were rather involved, but eventually they had to take them to hospital to get separated. My boss said her mother didn't know she was going out with the boy until that moment. Awkward!

*** Another true story, my eight-year-old daughter did this to me. Very uncomfortable conversation.


	13. Odyssey

Odyssey

Matthew was home from hospital at last and slowly recuperating under Marilla's tender care. He could see his happy place, the barn from his bedroom window. It had been his place of solace all his life. The tools, the machinery, the stock his oldest friends, but since his heart attack he'd been too weak to make it out there unless he was accompanied by one woman or another, either Marilla, Anne or Rachel. It was frustrating. There were things a man just needed to do, things of which his womenfolk had no understanding. Sure, they'd let him wander around, but they'd stand waiting for him. He could hear their fingers drumming against the doorway. They told him he had all the time in the world, but it was impossible to ignore them standing there. All Matthew wanted was to lose himself there in some project or another like in the old days. Instead he was mollycoddled to within an inch of his life and he was frustrated, short tempered and downright snippy. Marilla chastised him for it which made him feel worse.

Today was the day he decided a visit to the barn under his own steam was in order. It felt like a jailbreak, he'd waited until Marilla was in the bathroom; the door giving its familiar click when it closed behind her and in one swift motion he got out of bed and threw some clothes on. His boots were in their usual spot outside the door and he shuffled them on and walked as fast as he could manage. Once there he took a while to recover; in his race to get away he'd misjudged the energy he'd need.

He took his time to reacquaint himself with the lower floor. He knew the ladder was beyond his abilities right now the upper level would wait until another day, there was plenty to occupy him down here. Lightly tracing his fingers over each tool, he made their acquaintance again. Like old friends they were, each with their own history. He knew when each one had been brought or bequeathed. This one from his father, or that one from the mercantile in town. His father had sent away for the chainsaw, Matthew decided that it needed an oiling. The axe handle was smooth from years of first his father's and then his own hands hefting it against timber. There was a familiar bump in the shaft the result of an old knot in the wood that could never be quite smoothed over.

Marilla had been busy in the kitchen. After his attack the doctors had talked to them about diet and told them that the over-processed food they'd been eating was not ideal. She had fixed a nice afternoon tea with low fat cookies. She figured Matthew must be sleeping, all was quiet in his room. Knocking gently, she entered the room stopping in the doorway when it was obvious it was empty. Marilla looked at the room in bewilderment, where had he got to?

She looked in all the obvious places, but he was not in the house. She called out, her panic growing, thinking where he could be? Eventually she located him in the barn hunched over the chainsaw covered in grease. He looked up at her almost defiantly. Marilla put her head in her hands and pressed against her eyes with her thumb and forefinger and heaved a big sigh. Matthew turned his head back towards the chainsaw to sharpen another tooth. "It's afternoon teatime," Marilla said flatly. "Care to join me?"

Wiping his hands on a cloth, Matthew got to his feet with Marilla's help. They made their way back to the house silently. If Matthew leaned somewhat more heavily on Marilla's arm than he might have a few months earlier, she made no comment. After a sip of his tea and a munch on a dry cookie Matthew yawned widely. "You are not getting back into bed in that state," Marilla said. "Go and shower first." Later when he was tucked back in bed; happy that he had been out but really rather exhausted by his exertions they talked. "You scared me," Marilla said.

"I'm sorry. I had ta get out," Matthew explained.

"You'd been there before?"

"I needed to be on my own. I can't have you …" he searched for the right word. "Hoverin'."

"Matthew, I nearly lost you. I can't bear to …"

Matthew reached out his hand to placate her, "I know, but ya gotta let me live. I can't stay wrapped in cotton wool the rest of my days."  
"I know, I know. It's hard," Marilla gripped his hand back.

"I'll be careful, I'll rest when I need ta. I promise I won't push myself." She looked at him and nodded. "You know I was happier today than I've been for a long time. I felt useful, ya know. Like I accomplished somethin'. That chainsaw was awful blunt, now if I…" she looked at him sharply. "Or anyone else," he said correcting himself, "needs it. It's right to go. Just cos I'm laid up, I don't want the place to fall inta ruin. I love it too much," he yawned as he said the last sentence.

Marilla got to her feet and patted him on the shoulder. "Sleep now and in the morning, you can go and work some more." Matthew nodded at her and closed his eyes.

*/*/*

"Perhaps never in human history has the entire world been united by such a global drama," Walter Kronkite's sonorous voice projected out of the television as they all sat around the living room watching ardently.

"Buzz and Neil managed to get home, I'm sure they can manage this time," Anne said to no one in particular.

Strange how quickly complacency set in. Only last year they had watched the moon landing. With quite the rigmarole they had moved the television into Matthew's bedroom that warm July day, and sat around with him propped up in his bed watching with amazement as the astronauts skipped lightly over the moon's grey dusty surface taking photos of each other, playing ball and gathering moon rocks. It was completely surreal to see those suited men playing on the surface of another world. When Neil Armstrong made that momentous statement, 'one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,' they all cheered feeling as one with their southern cousins.

The extended Lynde family had celebrated the Moon Landing too; the whole clan crammed into the living room, sitting on couches, chairs, the floor, beanbags, each other. Rather than watching Rachel had been busy serving food and drink. Thomas had kicked her when she obstructed his view momentarily and she leaned against the kitchen bench as tears came to her eyes, but he was yelling for another drink almost immediately. She brushed her tears aside as she opened the icebox and located another beer. He took it without letting his eyes leave the screen, he just dropped his empty can on the floor and put his hand out for the next. It went without saying that Rachel would put a full one in his outstretched hand and pick up the empty. Thomas was excited that night and pounded into her with more gusto than usual despite the fact that Rachel was exhausted after her busy day. Since when had he ever cared about her?

That had seemed the most dangerous moment in Earth's history, but the world held its collective breath as the stricken Apollo 13 space craft stuttered back to earth; each major set-back explained in intricate detail. Jammed onto the sofa Rachel joined the Cuthberts as they watched the projected trajectory of the small rocket marvelling that anyone could survive in the vast vacuum of space encased in what was essentially a tin can. Rachel was acutely aware of Marilla's thigh pressed against hers; the weight of its skinny firmness jammed next to her fuller version. It was slightly uncomfortable yet delicious all the same and she couldn't help feeling tendrils of excitement curling around her abdomen.

Marilla glanced away from the television momentarily her eyes flickering at Rachel. The wait was interminable as the space craft entered Earth's atmosphere. Yet another precarious moment for the crew after a dangerous week. The static crackling on the television was interspersed with words from Walter Kronkite, "this is the critical moment. Will the heat shield hold? Will the command module survive the intense heat of reentry? If it doesn't there'll only be silence." They waited with baited-breath for a sign, any sign. Marilla couldn't bear it anymore she got to her feet on the pretence of finding some sustenance. Matthew and Anne barely noticed her leave as they watched the TV raptly. Rachel did and followed to check she was alright.

The kitchen was empty, just a few cups and saucers on the draining board last night's pot soaking. Rachel eventually located her in the pantry leaning back on the countertop her breast heaving. She went to her at once, "what's up Marilla? Are you okay?" Marilla made no audible answer instead she pulled Rachel to her and pressed her lips close.

"Expected time of reacquisition, the time when the astronauts were expected to come out of blackout has come and gone. About all any of us can do now is just listen and hope," dimly Kronkite's voice could be heard from the living room.

The stricken astronauts were forgotten as Rachel and Marilla kissed in the pantry. Fingers, tongues avidly finding each other, hair mussed and lipstick smudged; all that mattered was the glorious being in their arms. Distantly they could hear Matthew and Anne cheering but they could have been on the moon themselves for all the notice they took.

Eventually they returned to the sitting room out of breath and a little shaky. Rachel noticed a stray hair that had escaped Marilla's ponytail and tucked it back behind her neck, lingering perhaps slightly longer over the gesture than was strictly necessary. "You missed all the fun," Matthew complained as the images of the astronauts being hauled out of the space capsule flashed on the screen. He and Anne looked extremely relieved. The ladies were too, but in a different way.

"I think it's time you moved in," Marilla said to Rachel a few weeks later. Rachel had been spending most of her time at Green Gables anyway her house echoed with unhappy memories.

"Move in?" questioned Rachel.

"I suppose I should put it a better way. Would you like to move in with me, Rachel dearest? I would love to have you live here with me."

"Um, what will Matthew say?" Rachel said with a stutter.

"He'll be okay."

"No, you have to ask him first. I can't barge in on his home," Rachel urged.

Matthew was surprised, but not dismayed. It made sense to have Rachel around now that Thomas was gone. "You'll have to take care of her though Mar," he said cautiously. "Don't 'spect it will be all plain sailing. Marilla frowned at him, she thought she knew what she was doing.

They sat out on the porch one warm evening each nursing a glass of beer as the crickets were chirruping in the garden. "Are you sure you're okay with it, Matthew?" Rachel asked yet again. "Just say the word, no hard feelings."

"Nope, I'm happy to have you come, Rachel. You'll be good company, been mighty quiet around here since Anne's gone off to college. Like the old days, eh Marilla?" he said with a wink over to his sister. He took a swig of beer, condensation on the glass cooling his hand.

For her part Marilla was practically bouncing in her seat. Rachel patted her knee, "you'll spill your drink, Marilla."

Dark clouds heralded a storm when Rachel parked the Volvo stuffed with her belongings as close to the house as she could. After they had taken load after load in Marilla welcomed Rachel into her bedroom a vase of flowers on the dresser filling the room with their glorious scent.

It had been raining all night. Marilla awoke to the sound of a car boot slamming. She glanced across the bed and realised with a start that she was on her own. Throwing back the covers she rushed out the door and down the stairs realising halfway down that she was naked. She grabbed a raincoat on her way out and threw that over her shoulders just in time to see Rachel glance up at the house and climb into the Volvo. "Rachel!" Marilla called out, "stop!"

She raced over to the car through the puddles and hung onto the door peering in, "Rachel, where are you going?"

"No, don't stop me now Marilla. It's no good I can't stay with you. I thought I could, but I just can't. Please let me go."

"Rachel, come back in. We'll just talk. Just let me talk to you, please," Marilla said imploringly.

Reluctantly Rachel let herself be escorted back in through the downpour tears intermingling with raindrops trickling down her cheeks. She sat at the kitchen table while Marilla fussed around looking for towels. She rubbed her own hair vigorously after she handed the towel over to Rachel who did likewise. Marilla put the kettle on and while they were waiting for it to boil she went upstairs to put some clothes on and to give Rachel some time to herself.

While she was upstairs dressing in jeans and a warm top she reflected that she may have moved rather too quickly for poor Rachel. She had been so excited to have her move in that she had forgotten how frightened Rachel might be. I must remember to listen to her, to give her space, she chided herself. Looking down at the dishevelled bedding she had a brainwave.

The linen cupboard was just out the door and she went to it now and pulled out some fresh sheets. The shrill call of the kettle reminded her that Rachel was hopefully still downstairs, a fact that was confirmed when the whistle abruptly stopped. The spare bedroom was pretty, thought Marilla as she opened the curtains and pulled down the blankets from the top of the cupboard. Quickly throwing the sheet over the mattress and watching it billow out and then collapse to rest on the mattress she tucked it in and put another one on top and then laid the blankets over. The pillow was next so she stuffed the pillow in a case and gave it a quick kiss before she turned and made her way back downstairs.

A coffee cup sat steaming on the kitchen table, its pair cradled in Rachel's hands. Marilla sat down and took up the cup, murmuring her thanks and commenting on how welcome a hot drink was. They sat and sipped in a tense silence until simultaneously blurting out, "I should apologise." They both stopped to let the other speak. After a pause they started again until Marilla stopped and waved at Rachel to speak. Rachel sighed and after a pause started quietly, "it's just no good, Marilla. I thought I could stay here with you, but I see that was a fool's dream. I can't, I'm no good for that. I'm no one's partner now. I'll just go home and live alone from now on, I…"

Marilla placed her hand over Rachel's just lightly touching her, "shh. I was going to apologise. I pushed you too far. I understand that now. I was just so excited to have you come live here I forgot how it must be for you." Rachel stifled a yawn before choking as she gulped her coffee in her nervousness. Marilla looked at her compassionately, "did you sleep at all last night?"

"No," said Rachel quietly, "I just lay there and fretted. I was afraid that if I touched you, you'd think I wanted more and it would lead to…" she trailed off.

"Oh Rachel, I won't do anything you're not ready for. And if it never happens, that's perfectly fine too. I just want you to be happy. Look I made up another bed, you can go and have a nap now if you like. Would you like to follow me?" Marilla got to her feet and held out a hand, after a beat Rachel took it and they walked up the stairs together. The room did look nice, the freshly made bed beckoned. Rachel turned to Marilla with tears in her eyes, this looked far more enticing. She had just hated the way she reacted the previous night and worried that Marilla would be angry with her. The bed was soft and warm, Rachel was asleep in minutes.

Downstairs Marilla sat with a refreshed cup of coffee, musing. It was all her fault that much was sure. She had overestimated Rachel's preparedness to be with her. The poor darling's been completely bowed by that bastard, she thought thinking back to the utterly vile Thomas. I'll just have to take it slow. Very slow and remember to let her take the lead. Marilla drained the last of her coffee and got up to set the cup in the dishwasher. She had watched Rachel attempt to starve herself lately in an attempt to lose some weight. Marilla liked her just the way she was, so she walked over to the cupboard to rummage around for a cake mix. Maybe some baked goods would lift Rachel's mood.

Rachel woke up to her tummy rumbling. The baking aroma was alluring, and her mouth watered in response. A small knock could be heard, and she said, "come in." The door opened revealing Marilla balancing a tray in her hands. She paused then entered saying, "I thought you might like some morning tea." Still groggy from her nap, Rachel struggled to sit up. Marilla set the tray down on the bedside table and helped her find some spare pillows. Rachel felt very hedonistic lying in bed in the middle of the day with a cup of tea and a plate with piece of cake on her lap, but she had to admit it was rather nice. "Now you just stay and rest, Rachel. I'm going to take a cup out to Matthew. Don't feel you have to lift a finger," Marilla said with a smile.

As expected, Matthew was in the barn. Marilla poured her heart out to him, confessing to what an idiot she had been. Matthew refrained from saying I told you so, but it was a close thing. However, he did say, "you've gotta be careful." Marilla nodded. "I never told you, did I?" Matthew continued. "I always liked Rachel. I always felt wretched I never defended her against Thomas. I'll carry that to my grave, I know. But mind you had better look after her, sister. If you hurt her, I don't know what I'll do. Jest take it real slow, Mar. She's like a little wounded bird. No sudden movements, okay."

Marilla huffed in annoyance. "I mean it, take it easy," Matthew continued. "I know you're excited I know you want more." Marilla looked up at him in shock, unaware that he knew. "Yeah, I know what you want but ya gotta be gentle."

Marilla nodded, "yes I'll go slow. I'll let her take the lead from now on."

"She's had a tough time, Marilla. Jus' remember that. If you go too fast, she'll run away. I 'spect there'll be setbacks along the way. Ya gotta be real tender."

Marilla smiled, "like you have so much experience all of a sudden."

Matthew grinned and drained his drink wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "I dealt with enough wild animals in my time."

Marilla bridled at his statement, "Rachel's no animal."

"I'm not saying she is I just know you gotta be patient, Mar. You go back in and be there for her now." Marilla took his empty cup from him and he watched her slosh her way through the puddles to the house and disappear through the back door.


	14. Bosom for A Pillow

Rachel could keep memories of Thomas at bay during the day, but at night her sleep was broken by nightmares. He would be looming over her menacingly his fists larger than ever or brandishing a weapon, sometimes even the leg of lamb that had been his nemesis. She'd come-to trembling to find Marilla stroking her gently, whispering that it was all just a bad dream.

The first time Marilla heard her cries in the night she padded along the hall, its light illuminating the bedroom just enough to see, but not enough to frighten Rachel. It wouldn't have mattered Rachel was traumatised already. Briefly Marilla thought about waking her up but decided against it. In any case Rachel rose out of her bed like a wave the blankets slipping off. She looked up wild eyed, not recognising Marilla at all. "Sh, sh, darling. You're safe now." Marilla felt it best she not caress Rachel though she desperately wanted to. "Wha? Wha?" Rachel was breathing heavily, heart racing struggling to get her bearings. Marilla sat on the end of the bed, "sh, sh. It's okay. You were having a bad dream. You're safe, you're here with me at Green Gables. He's gone. He can't hurt you ever again."

Rachel trembled at the thought still in the grip of the dream. "He – he can't?" she asked suspiciously.

"No darling he can't, you took care of that remember?" Marilla replied comfortingly.

"He can't hurt me?" Rachel still couldn't quite take it in. He'd just been in the room looming over her menacingly, and now Marilla was saying he couldn't hurt her? She looked at Marilla then down at her outstretched hand. She really wanted to touch Marilla to know that she was real that she was safe, but she was dreadfully frightened that the hand might turn into his; that this was all a terrible trap. He liked to play tricks on her, to catch her out and then knock her about. That had been his favourite game. Slowly she withdrew her hand shaking her head.

"Darling, it's me. I'll keep you safe. He can't hurt you ever again. It's me Marilla, we're at Green Gables," Marilla kept up her comforting litany hoping Rachel would come around, she was getting cold sitting there in her nightie; leaving to find her dressing gown was not an option.

Eventually Rachel's heavy breathing settled down and she let Marilla help her back down onto the pillows and tuck her back in bed. As she felt herself falling to sleep, she could hear Marilla's soft breathing from the end of the bed.

Marilla tried to patient with her; letting her sleep in, making her treats, buying her clothes; but she found it harder than she had expected. She loved Rachel with all her heart, but she had lost so much confidence; wavered in indecision so long. Marilla champed at the bit. She knew Rachel had paid too high a price for wrong decisions for many years; yet it was frustrating to watch her vacillate over the smallest of things. What to wear in the morning, what to have for breakfast, what to buy at the store? It gave Marilla an insight into the difficulties Rachel had endured. And while she prevaricated Marilla found it too enticing to just take over, to make that decision for her and move on; she hoped Rachel did not despise her for it.

She spoke to Matthew about it one night while Rachel took a bath, needing a fresh perspective, not that Matthew had much relationship experience. "Ya jus gotta let her take her time, Mar," he cautioned. "Freedom when you ain't had it 'afore is hard. He always made those decisions for her and when she tried to assert herself, she paid the price. Ya can't 'spect her to turn that off all a sudden."

"I know, I know, it's just so exasperating. We take hours walking around the store as she dithers over which can of tuna to buy." Marilla thought back to that afternoon when Rachel had balanced two brands of otherwise identical tuna tins in her hands for a full five minutes before reluctantly making a decision and even then, she nearly circled back to change her mind.

"She'll get there," Matthew reassured her. "Maybe you should go get a coffee and leave her to it. She might like to have the space. She probably knows you're frustrated and that makes it harder for her." Marilla nodded, Matthew may not say much as a general rule, but when he did speak his were words of wisdom.

Marilla turned over in bed one morning and as she glanced across the covers absentmindedly she noticed with a shock that the bed was not empty as expected; instead she saw her beloved's closed eyes mere inches from hers. Rachel stirred shortly after and woke to see Marilla smiling at her. "Mmm?"

"Nothing, I'm just happy to see you is all."

Rachel turned to face Marilla and reached out her hand, "I've been wanting to join you for weeks, last night I finally summoned the courage. Hope you don't mind."

By way of reply Marilla reached out and stroked the hair out of Rachel's face, trailing her thumb down Rachel's cheek catching the ridge of her lip. Rachel brushed it with the merest kiss. Marilla's hand continued down Rachel's neck and across her collarbone snaking down to cup her breast. When Rachel pulled back imperceptibly Marilla pulled her hand away, but Rachel grabbed her by her wrist and placed her hand back saying, "no, I like it." She undid the buttons of her nightie to give Marilla better access and Marilla responded by leaning forward to take one rosy red nipple in her mouth. Rachel shifted her position as Marilla continued to suckle, the engorged bud swirling deliciously in her mouth. When she pulled back it glistened in the early morning light. Rachel's torso bucked under her ministrations, "wh, wha are you doing?"

Marilla pulled away momentarily to answer, "this is foreplay my love, some say it's the best part … until the next part." Her fingers slowly traced around and down Rachel's chest to tickle her stomach. Rachel's legs parted quite of their own volition. Marilla stopped then unwilling to go there if Rachel was unsure. She pulled away to ascertain her reaction. Rachel's whole body was alive with longing. She looked across at Marilla, her hair spread messily across the pillow, panting sweat beading on her face. "Why... stop?"

"I want to be sure if you were ready. You have to tell me."

Rachel sighed and by way of an answer reached out for Marilla's hand pulling it across to the juncture of her legs. She was more than ready her whole body ached with desire. Marilla gently reached down, taking Rachel's hand she placed it under her own and felt Rachel shudder in shock.

Later Rachel sobbed with the emotion of it all. "He never let me feel that he never did that to me." Marilla held her as she let all her inhibitions flow out rubbing her back in concentric circles and murmuring words of love.

A droplet of pear juice snaked down Marilla's dainty wrist. Rachel had watched Marilla meticulously peel and cut up the deliciously ripe fruit, her mouth watering as Marilla carved off small morsels and fed them to her one by one. Rachel relished the taste of Marilla's fingers and obligingly licked the juice off. When some juice somehow landed on Rachel's breasts Marilla was only too happy to oblige in clearing it up with her warm tongue. The slight stickiness later was delicious.

The whole experience had an almost sacred tone. Marilla sat astride Rachel in bed her legs akimbo over Rachel's bare ones, naked bar the flimsy Asian inspired silk purple dressing gown Anne had given her for Christmas draped over her shoulders.

Rachel could get used to this treatment, although she always felt in the back of her mind that she would have to pay for such happiness somehow. After all her years of abuse she could never completely relax into her new situation. She couldn't quite articulate her feelings to Marilla who was after all so very sweet to her. She just had to keep a little back, just a little to keep herself safe should anything ever happen to upset them.

"Where should we live do you think?" Marilla asked as Rachel felt a sliver of the juicy pear slip out of her mouth, Marilla watched with a smile as the fruit fell through Rachel's ample cleavage. She bent over and licked it up, half tempted to send it back into Rachel's mouth through their lips, but it was so miniscule she had inadvertently swallowed it before she got the chance.

"Hm, here is nice," Rachel mused as she snuggled down into the pillows. "I've always loved Green Gables for the refuge it afforded me."

"Yes, but Matthew might feel somewhat put out. I mean he said he was happy, but…"

"No, you're quite right, it's not fair to upset Matthew with our," Rachel waved around at their deshabille airily.

"Quite." Marilla nodded, laying down next to Rachel and resting her head on her ample belly. Rachel was losing weight no longer needing to binge eat all the rubbish she had previously consumed, but weight loss was a slow business. In any case Marilla didn't want her to be skinny like she was, she liked Rachel's rolls. "So where?"

"Well I suppose there's always Lynde Hollow," Rachel tensed unexpectedly.

Marilla replied steadily, "I don't think you could live there again, could you? Have you been back since you came here?"

"I drive past it often enough."

"At speed I notice, and your eyes are always fixed firmly on the road in front; you don't look at the place at all."

Rachel's voice dropped to a whisper, "no."

"So that's settled," Marilla said conclusively, "we won't be moving there." She glanced across at Rachel, "you don't mind me making the decision, do you? I don't want to take over your life."

Rachel looked back at her steadily, for a moment it had seemed as though she'd swapped one despot for another, but no this was her darling Marilla a far far cry from him. She could no long bear to say his name even in her thoughts. "No, make the decision for me, my darling. I don't think I can … can do it."

Matthew assured the women he was perfectly happy for them to live there. Rachel sighed in satisfaction, she had hated the thought of moving away. Green Gables had always been a refuge, she loved it nearly as dearly as Marilla did.

They were careful around Matthew, but when his John Deere rumbled in the field or his old truck disappeared up the driveway they were quick to take advantage. Rachel might push Marilla's dress up around her thighs and kneel down before her as she leant against the kitchen counter. Or Marilla might push Rachel up onto the kitchen bench; sometimes they even used the bed.

"What's that?" Rachel asked as she watched Marilla rummage around in her bedside drawer one quiet afternoon, the John Deere could be heard chugging in the distance. "Oh yes, this," explained Marilla as she drew the object out. "I'll never forget the look on the Minister's face when Anne walked into the sitting room with this shimmering in her hands asking why I needed such a big lipstick and why it vibrated." I was mortified.

"Why on earth did the Minister visit you?"

"I dunno, drumming up business I guess. I have to say there's nothing like a curious child to make him skedaddle. He couldn't get out of here fast enough, nearly spilt his coffee down his pants."

"Don't put it away just yet," Rachel drawled.

"No, it's not that," Marilla leant back over Rachel's broad belly, relishing the silky sensation of skin on skin and reached over to the bedside table, "I have something for you." She handed Rachel an envelope.

Intrigued Rachel slit it open and drew out the card within. She hooted with laughter, her whole belly shaking with mirth. Marilla had recreated a facsimile of a golden Oscar. Rachel glanced up at Marilla mystified. "There's more inside," Marilla said by way of explanation. That was when Rachel really lost it, it read 'Rachel Lynde Best Actress'. When she recovered, she said, "oh darling, it's amazing. Did you draw that yourself? Oh well I suppose you must have. Come here." And they leant together for the most amazingly deep kiss and afterwards there was no need for toys.


	15. Out of the Closet

The front door slammed shut with a bang and a gust of cold air raced through the house sending shivers up various spines. Strands of tinsel festooning the dining room caught the light as it swayed in the breeze, Christmas tree decorations danced creating a slight tinkly sound which went unheard. Marilla glanced quickly around at their guests as they looked up from their dinner in consternation, the picked over turkey carcass providing a diminished centrepiece. They had gathered friends and family to join them for Christmas dinner but much to Marilla's regret Rachel had gone to her family for the long weekend.

Rachel's daughter Mary had called a few weeks prior and practically begged Rachel to join them. "I'm sure it will be okay," Rachel had placated Marilla saying that absence made the heart fonder and promised her a wonderful post-Christmas reunion. Marilla let her go with some trepidation, after all what choice did she have? This was Rachel's family after all.

Judging by the slamming door perhaps Marilla had been right after all and her fears were founded when a silent but red-faced Rachel appeared at the doorway chest heaving, snow in her hair. She searched around the room fervently, her face relaxing when her eyes lit upon Marilla's then she turned and made her way down the hallway. "Excuse me for a moment, please," Marilla said pulling back her chair. There was a silence around the table until Anne turned to Mrs Barry pointedly asking, "you were saying?" The spell broken various people turned to their neighbours mostly to speculate about what they had just witnessed.

The sound of their chatter faded into the background as Marilla made her way out to the kitchen where she found Rachel leaning against the fridge. Her legs looked about to buckle and Marilla crossed over to her swiftly and took her in her arms. Without speaking, Rachel leant into Marilla's chest and just let herself go while Marilla hugged her tightly, sending all the love she had through her embrace. Eventually Rachel spoke saying swiftly, "Oh Marilla, you've no idea." Marilla did have a pretty good idea as it happened, but she merely placed her hands around Rachel's cheeks and tilted her face up for a long and passionate kiss.

Mrs Barry had finished telling Anne her long and frankly boring story about her mother in law's piles and Anne had shifted her attention to Mary Keith on her other side when the interminable tale reached its conclusion. That left Mrs Barry somewhat at a loss as she had been sitting next to Marilla on her other side; the usual seating of boy girl boy being impossible due to low numbers of men.

Deciding to see what was keeping their host so long Mrs Barry got up to investigate. She weaved her way through the hallway of the unfamiliar house, stopping when she reached the kitchen doorway where she was greeted by the sight of Marilla comforting Rachel in a most unusual manner. The staccato knocking of the Christmas pudding against the saucepan provided a backdrop to the low murmurings the two women made in their urgent embrace. Their kiss was far from the chaste peck two friends might bestow upon each other and in fact was considerably more involved than any Mr Barry had conferred upon her in many a year. She stood there shocked forgetting that she might be considered rude for eavesdropping on such an intimate scene. It did not matter, so intent were Marilla and Rachel upon each other that they did not notice Mrs Barry staring at them. She backed away slowly while they continued their attentions.

On her way back to the dining table Mrs Barry determined the best course of action. She swept into the room and ordered her family, "right, we're off. Come Diana and Minnie May, it's time to go!"

"What? No mother, I haven't had a chance to catch up with Anne," Diana protested.

"But we haven't even had dessert yet," whined Minnie May.

"Darling? Whatever is the matter?" queried her husband.

Ignoring their protests, Mrs Barry declared, "I'll, I'll take you to Tom Hortons, aren't you always bugging me to take you. This is your chance," she grabbed Minnie May by the arm.

"Mo-om, it's Tim Hortons," Minnie May rolled her eyes at her mother's mistake. "Anyway, they won't have Christmas pudding and it's my favourite," she wriggled unsuccessfully to get free of her mother's tight clasp.

"I don't understand," Mr Barry said. "Is something the matter?"

"I'll tell you in the car," muttered Mrs Barry. "Pas devant les enfants," she added.

"Not in front of the children," translated Diana. "What can't you say in front of the children, mother?" she put her arms up defensively when her mother lunged at her. "Oh no, I'm staying. You can't drag me off too. I'm nineteen now, you can't force me."

The Keiths sat by open mouthed as this display of familial conflict played out in front of them. Demure Dora looked shocked, but her twin brother Davy was delighted, he always loved it when other families broke down too, it made their family seem normal.

Back in the kitchen the embrace was coming to a natural conclusion. "Do you feel you can join the party? Marilla murmured. They made their way back to the dining room where they bumped into the hastily departing Barrys. "What was that about?" a bemused Marilla asked Matthew.

"Dunno, she, "Matthew pointed at Mrs Barry through the window, "just came in and ordered the rest of the family out, much to their confusion and disgust. Minnie May was most put out at missing the pudding.

The rest of the guests made their excuses after the flamed pudding had been consumed. Diana had driven off with her aunt after promising to catch up with Anne again the next day. Marilla pressed a dessert bowl with some pudding in it into her hands as she left, "I do feel sorry for Minnie May," she explained. "I know how she loves it."

/•/•/•/

Rachel sighed as she woke up. She had been too riled up to say much the night before, they'd picked up some of the detritus and packed the dishwasher but now after a good night's sleep tucked up next to Marilla she felt clearer.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Marilla asked as she stroked Rachel's silver hair.

Rachel stared straight up looking at but not really seeing the ceiling, her tummy rumbled. Glancing across at Marilla she said, "I'll tell you over breakfast. I didn't get much to eat last night."

Matthew came out to the smell of frying pudding. Fried Christmas pudding was one of Rachel's favourite foods. They sat down with platefuls of food and strong coffee to listen to Rachel's tale.

"I was welcomed in nicely enough. Mary does put on a good spread I'll give her that. The house was spick and span and the children were happy to see me. And I them," she added after a beat. "All went well until the boys arrived." Rachel speared another piece of pudding and popped it in her mouth, when she had swallowed, she continued, "John and Thomas and their wives led the charge. They accused me of dereliction."

"Dereliction?" Marilla queried.

"Of the family. They told me I had deserted them when I moved in with you. They don't like you much, I'm sorry to say," Rachel smiled at Marilla and grasped her hand momentarily. "Anyway, when I asked about that, they said they had expected I would move in to one of their houses and babysit. They complained that childcare is expensive, and my job now was to provide free childminding. Marilla, I've cared for children for nigh on thirty years, I don't want to do it anymore. I want to have a life now." She stopped and washed another piece of pudding down with a slurp of coffee. "When I told them that, they told me I was selfish."

Marilla snorted at that. "You selfish? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"Indeed," Matthew murmured looking fondly at Rachel. Fried pudding was a new taste sensation for him, and he was enjoying his morning immensely, though he felt sorry for Rachel.

Thinking about it, Rachel smacked her palms down on kitchen table making all the crockery jump, "well fuck them. Sorry for the cussing, Marilla but fuck the lot of them. I've had it. I rushed out after they'd had their say, despite their attempts to stop me. I'm sorry to say their father's blood runs too hot in them and they're all awful.

"Except…" Matthew said.

Rachel looked at him wild-eyed, "except?"

"Lucy," he finished.

"Oh, yes dear Lucy. She is a lovely girl. She's not like the others, thank goodness."

Marilla sat looking at her friend with admiration. Her swearing was healthy she decided and long overdue.

*/*/*/*

"It's a wonder Lucy turned out the way she did, considering," Marilla mused the next evening after a dinner of leftovers. They had spent the day tidying up the mess. Anne was out with friends after they had implored to take it easy on the icy roads.

"We-ll I guess so," Rachel replied hesitatingly. Marilla couldn't miss the quick flicker of a glance Rachel made towards Matthew.

"You guess so? The rest of them are so terrible to you and she is such an angel. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Thomas had kinda gone off me by then," Rachel explained. "He said I disgusted him. I'm pretty sure he was casting his net further afield as it were, and my fertility was finally lessening. Not that it stopped the beatings..." She trailed off momentarily before beginning again. "You were out one day, maybe off to Charlottetown for one of your interludes," she looked meaningfully at Marilla who nodded. "Can't remember and I had to get out of the house for a spell." Marilla sat enthralled. "Matthew was home and I came to him for comfort in your stead and well..."

Matthew cleared his throat, "I 'member..." His mind went back, in truth he had replayed that moment for most of his life. She had come to him while he harvested, appearing over the side of the tractor cabin. Hair mussed, blouse ripped open with a bruise forming on her cheek. The stubble had cut her bare feet and ankles leaving angry red marks. When the noise of the tractor had died down, he could hear her sobs. "Marilla's gone to Charlottetown," he told her. She nodded and looked up at him tearfully. He'd gathered her into his arms and carried her back to the barn. His father was out, but his mother was in the house. She'd begged him not to tell her, so he had placed a blanket over a pile of hay in the barn. Fetching a wet rag, he'd cleaned her feet. Rachel had tried unsuccessfully to cover herself up, but the blouse was ruined. She lay back exhausted and when he had finished Matthew had joined her on the hay.

Matthew was not particularly proud of himself, but it had happened and that was that. Two lonely people finding solace in each other. Afterwards she had pulled herself together and limped away and all he could do was wince when she appeared the next time.

Rachel nodded, "you took me up to the barn and tended to me so devotedly. Remember my ankles got cut up by the stubble where you'd already harvested? Matthew nodded. "I hope you'll forgive us, Marilla," Rachel looked her straight in the eye while Matthew looked down at his knees, she turned her gaze back to him, "you were a tender lover despite your lack of experience, Matthew. Anyway, you returned Marilla, and the opportunity never arose again. Luckily Thomas was too drunk to go out one day soon after so I could easily explain away the pregnancy. It was the one and only time I was happy to have sex with him."

Marilla thought back to that short conversation she had with Matthew in the hospital when he was recovering from his heart operation, she'd always wondered who The One was. Looked like she'd just found out. "So, it was no wonder our tender-hearted Matthew would father such a lovely girl as Lucy." Rachel explained. "I never did tell you did I, Matthew? Of course, I can't be one hundred percent certain, but I'm pretty sure. She was slightly early if you recall, Marilla?"

"I do, in fact I'd wondered if you got your dates wrong. She was a good size for one born allegedly early," Marilla replied.

Rachel nodded, "luckily Thomas was never very interested in babies, except for the inconvenience they caused. As soon the baby was born, he'd clamber on me for another go." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair at the memory of him forcing her bruised legs apart mere hours after she'd given birth. Matthew scowled. "I suppose it might be my fault, really," Rachel mused.

"Your fault?" Marilla queried.

"I s'pose I treated Lucy a bit different to the others. She was a sweeter child in any case and thinking of her providence, maybe subliminally I had more patience with her than the others."

"She was the youngest of course," Matthew said quietly.

Rachel glanced across at him, "yes that probably helped too. I never had to parent her while pregnant with the next."

"Have you ever told her?" Marilla asked.

"Lucy? No, and I never will," Rachel answered emphatically. "She's got enough on her plate with her siblings."

"Might help her," Matthew said speculatively.

"Help her?"

"To know she's not completely related to them or may not be. I guess we'll never know. She might like that."

"Hmm," Rachel mused. "I never thought of it like that. Anyway, I need a shower." She got to her feet and made her way out of the room.

Marilla watched her go, but decided she needed to have a chat with Matthew first.


	16. Out of Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to stay cool on a very hot Australian summer day I imagined a snowy scene for you.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, Shit!"

After a terse conversation with Matthew who had refused to say much more Marilla had walked up to the bathroom but turned on her heel as she approached and walked out of the house; deciding instead that she needed to talk to Josephine Barry in the hopes that a fresh perspective might provide insight.

Large wet snowflakes landed on the dark road. She flicked the radio off as she reversed the car and turned it down the driveway. The only sound was the scraping sound the windscreen wipers made as they went at full bore, but visibility was limited. Banked up snow edged the road lit up by her headlights on full beam, but beyond them was solid black broken by the odd bare tree looming out of the darkness. Marilla knew the way she had driven it almost every day of her life after all. Round the bed, straighten up for a few hundred feet then the next bend.

Absentmindedly she drove the car her mind awhirl with the information that her brother had slept with her best friend. She almost didn't know who she was most cross with; either way she felt terribly betrayed. Matthew? Rachel? Matthew and Rachel? The whole thing seemed so completely implausible. She had never really questioned why her brother never took a girlfriend she assumed he was homosexual if anything; but he seemed almost asexual, with no apparent interest in either gender. He always seemed content with his own company.

Her mind was reeling which meant that she barely noticed the road at all which was a pity because if there was one night of the year when the road warranted her attention this was it. In such a hurry was she to reach her destination she stepped on the gas to get there all the sooner. She received no joy when she reached the Barry house, Mrs Barry explained that Josephine had already left Avonlea and sent Marilla back into the filthy night.

The ice was black and treacherous, even a car travelling at a decent speed would have had difficulty negotiating it. Driven at speed the pickup truck had no chance and without warning it started fishtailing. Marilla forgot the lessons that had been drummed into her when she first started driving. Canadians were taught ice driving technique when they were practically infants. Now with her mind preoccupied on other matters she forgot everything she thought she knew and braked hard. The car shot out of control and into a wild spin veering off the road eventually coming to a halt half-way down a ditch. It only stopped when it hit the frozen interior of a snowdrift, spraying ice falling over the hood and across the windscreen. Marilla momentarily blacked out as her forehead hit the hard rim of the steering wheel but when she came to, she looked around and swore.

When she was young, Marilla loved to read stories set in the past such as Little House on the Prairie, Little Women and Anne of Green Gables. Sitting in the stalled car after she came-to she woozily speculated how much easier life would have been back then, no need to study the properties of rubber tyres on slippery ice. Spinning out of control was not a concern.

She shook her head as she was jerked into the reality of the situation. The car was stuck, the weather was freezing, the snow was coming down faster than ever. Putting the car into reverse she stepped on the gas and listened to the engine whine and the wheels spin but made no headway; useless. The car door was also jammed, iced shut she supposed. It's bitterly cold she thought suddenly; in her haste she had forgotten to bring a coat or gloves so was woefully under-dressed. She stuck her hands under her armpits to keep them warm. Her breath condensed in the air and she thought, what now?

Sometime later a car carefully drove down the same road. Like Marilla the driver was well versed in the road conditions, they too had driven down it many hundreds of times. Just that night their parents had told them to be careful out there and although the parents did not think the driver really heard them, they knew to be careful in the wild conditions. There was a spot they knew that was prone to ice and they braked slowly to allow for it.

"Drive carefully," the usual words rang in her ears as she slammed the front door behind her. Drive carefully, that's what Marilla always said to her as if she'd forgotten the reason Anne came to live at Green Gables in the first place. Anne could still remember huddling in the back of her parent's car when it eventually slid to a stop, after the terrifying spiralling had finally slowed and then halted altogether. There was a chilling silence in that car. Drive carefully; as if she'd do anything but.

Anne remembered talking to Matthew about it one afternoon when she was learning to drive at fifteen. She had gone off a little half-cocked and he directed her to the side of the road and reminded her that a car was no more than three tonnes of lethal metal. She looked at him wide eyed in that moment and stammered out what did he mean?

"I don't want to scare you Anne," he'd said bluntly. "But you lost your own parents to a drunk driver and I want to keep you safe. It's almost more than I can bare to let you drive at all, but I know I have to; but you havta be oh so careful. I don't think we could cope if anything happened to ya. Ya can't manage other drivers that's outta ya control, but you must drive to the conditions."

On this night Anne had been out with Diana and usual gang with everyone home for the holidays. It was great to catch up, to sit around the Blythe fireplace swapping stories of the ridiculous goings on of their college roommates. Anne felt such a camaraderie with these old friends. She'd been desperate to get out of small-town Avonlea but now surrounded by old friends she realised what she had left behind. Sure she had made new friends at college, but there was no one like the old chums with a shared background, people she didn't have to explain her story to over and over again. 'My parents died when I was young, I was brought up by two older siblings, no it was fine. They're lovely. I'm really very lucky.' Instead she could just relax for once.

Around midnight the party had broken up, everyone leaving with promises to stay in touch more next year. Anne never mixed drinking and driving so she had driven Diana home. Diana was a giggly mess, the result of a combination of weed and beer. In the car she reminisced about that long-ago time when they had eaten the hash brownie. How much trouble had they been in? Diana found it hilarious, but Anne was concentrating on the treacherous road and was rather relieved to reach the Barry house. The weed was still affecting Diana, so Anne had no choice but to help her through the house with muttered exhortations to be quiet and then into bed. It had been a long journey Anne felt and she was looking forward to the comfort of her own bed, all she had to do now was drive to it.

She almost passed it, but out of the corner of her eye she just saw the trunk of a car wedged into the snowdrift on the side of the road. Bringing her car to a gentle stop she pulled on her gloves, straightened her scarf and hat and opened the car door. Sinking nearly to her knees in the soft snow she clambered her way over to the stranded vehicle just in case there was someone still inside. When she came closer, she realised with a shock that the car was all too familiar, frantically she made her way over to the driver's side and pulled at the door. It was stuck fast. Pummelling on the window she peered into the dark interior trying to see if anyone was within. To her horror there was a soft knock back which she felt almost as much as heard.

Making her way around the other side of the vehicle she was relieved to find the back-passenger door openable and she climbed in, slamming the door behind her. As she got her bearings, she was dismayed to hear Marilla's voice say, "is that you Anne? I'm in a bit of a pickle."

"Marilla! What happened, what are you doing here?"

"I dunno, I dunno. I just woke up here and it's da-ark," Marilla's voice broke a little, "and I don't know what to do.

"Well come now," Anne climbed over into the front passenger seat. "Are there any blankets in here?"

"No, I meant to put some in last week and I forgot. The engine's not working either, I can't get the heater to w-w-work," Marilla's teeth were beginning to chatter with the cold.

"Where were you off to at this time of night?" Anne asked curiously.

Marilla glanced sharply at her, "none of your business."

"That's hardly fair Marilla. We're stuck here, I could be tucked up in my bed by now instead of freezing my butt off with you, as nice as that is," Anne laughed sardonically looking out into the darkness.

"Yes well, I wanted to visit Josephine. I expected she'd still be at the Barry's."

"Why did you need to see her all of a sudden?"

Silence. Then, "I needed some advice."

"Tonight?"

"Yes tonight," she said sharply. "I had some news and oh," Marilla sighed, "I dunno I needed a fresh perspective."

"Was she there?"

"No, Mrs Barry said she'd gone back to Charlottetown sooner than expected actually. Mrs Barry was quite short with me I don't know why? You'd think she might invite me in on such a night, but she as good as barred me from the house. So, I turned back for home and then…" Marilla looked around the car.

"But what was so urgent you had to talk to her? I don't understand."

Marilla stuffed her left hand between her thighs for warmth, studying the palm of the right one intently while she thought quickly. Blowing on it softly she started describing a heavily edited version of the conversation she, Rachel and Matthew had had the day before. Anne did not interrupt but sat still listening intently, it was apparent that Marilla was not telling her the whole story.

There was a pause as Marilla finished her tale, then she started taking off her sweater. Anne was confused because the car was icy, "Marilla? What are you doing? It's freezing in here you'll need that. Stop!"

"No, no I'm so hot, so hot all of a sudden. Isn't it hot in here? Aren't you boiling? I'm sweating. I just need to take this off." Anne fought to stop her because all she had on underneath was a simple cotton blouse.

/*/*/*

The shower had been restful, afterwards Rachel dried her hair with a towel and wrapped her long hair up in it. Eschewing her robe, she made her way out to the bedroom but stopped in the doorway when she realised it was still empty, the blankets still crumpled from their slumbers the night before. Were Marilla and Matthew still talking? She found her nightie in the drawer and returned to the steamy bathroom to add her dressing gown and slippers. Walking downstairs she was surprised not to hear any murmurs of conversation so she was not as stunned as she might have been when she found Matthew alone in the sitting room staring at the embers of the dying fire. He looked up at her approach, his eyebrows rising at the sight. "Where's Marilla?" Rachel asked.

"Thought she was upstairs with you," he replied.

"I thought she was still down here discussing the situation," Rachel said.

"Nope." They looked at each other dumbfounded and then both looked out the window at the blizzard. Matthew sprang to his feet. Rachel followed him out to the front door and gasped in shock at the temperature and when she saw two things; Marilla's familiar red plaid lumberjacket and outer gear still hanging by the door coupled with the fact that her truck was not parked in the driveway. "She's gone out in this?" Rachel said, gesticulating at the steadily falling snow.

"Wait," she called Matthew back before he too disappeared into the night. "You might need blankets." He paused while she fetched some from the cupboard, stuffed them into the back seat of the pickup and drove off in a roar, snow kicking up behind his tyres. Rachel stood watching his red lights disappear into the darkness. Pulling her dressing gown tightly around her she retreated into the warmth and sent up a prayer to the God she no longer believed in.

Marilla might be anywhere Matthew paused when he reached the highway, decided it was a fifty/fifty choice and turned right. It was easier for him to see the situation, Anne's car was parked by the side of the road. His blood ran cold when he saw it there, but when he went to it it was apparent that she was not hurt inside. He did notice however that there was a familiar truck parked nearby.

As she and Marilla struggled with the sweater Anne was relieved to hear banging on the outside of the truck. She wound down the window a crack to yell out that they were stuck inside and was doubly relieved when it became apparent that it was Matthew come to rescue them. He was able to crank the door open and they bundled into his truck with blankets for the ride home.

They got Marilla into a warm but not too hot bath and Rachel sat with her while she thawed. Anne fetched her a mug of warm milk before jumping into a shower herself, anything to ease the ache that had reached down into her bones. If she was cold it was apparent Marilla was in a desperate state. Later Rachel put her into the pre-warmed bed and snuggled up to her. They asked no questions about her actions.

/*/*/*

Rachel found Marilla by the fire in the sitting room, its warmth sustaining her as she gazed into the flames. Rachel sat down next to her and asked, "may I?"

Marilla did not avert her gaze but imperceptibly nodded and leaned into Rachel's side momentarily before leaning so far down to the other side that she was now laying on the floor. Taking it as a peace offering, Rachel lay down behind her and cradled Marilla's spare form in her own, spooning her. They were silent for a time then Marilla said, "I'm sorry."

"Shh, shh you're safe that's all that matters."

"No, I flew off the handle, I was being ridiculous."

"I'm sor…"

Marilla swivelled in Rachel's arms and put her finger to Rachel's lips, "no, you have nothing to apologise for. It was all a long time ago, you needed help and he was there. That's all. It was none of my business. You were two adults caught in the heat of the moment. You needed some love and he provided it while I was off gadding about in Charlottetown. I'm hardly in a position to be judgemental considering what I was up to over there."

"You were jealous because you love me." It was a statement not a question, Marilla nodded. Rachel added, "I admit we were shocked when we couldn't find you here, it seemed so out of character. Matthew shot out of the house as soon as it became apparent."

Marilla shivered with the memory, "just as well. It was pretty damn cold in that car."

"Anne has been smirking ever since you know," Rachel said between soft kisses on Marilla's earlobe.

"Oh?"

"I think the last thing you called to her when she left was to drive carefully so when she found you of all people stranded in the snowbank, she thought it was somewhat ironic."

Marilla swivelled back to face the fire enjoying its heat and the sensation of Rachel's comforting arms enveloping her. After a while she commented, "I suppose I'll never live it down."

"At least you will live, thanks to Anne. She said you were close to freezing to death in that car. Had you taken your sweater off?"

"Maybe? Can't recall."

"Matthew says that's a sign that hypothermia is setting in, people get confused apparently. Then of course they die of the cold."

Despite her situation Marilla shivered at the thought then moved her legs apart slightly. Rachel placed her uppermost hand between Marilla's thighs, shocked when she felt nothing under her skirt. "Hmm going commando I see, you're rather presumptuous."

Marilla ground back into Rachel's groin, "a woman can but hope." Rachel rolled Marilla onto her back hitched her skirt up and manoeuvred herself around.

Matthew found them sound asleep laying on the carpet by the fire a while later. He placed a blanket over them both and sat down. Sitting on the sofa watching his women sleep Matthew reflected that in another life it might have been him curled up by the fire with Rachel in his arms. He sighed, well at least she was happy even if it was difficult.

His reverie was interrupted by the muffled sound of something striking the outside wall. Pft, pft. Pft pft, pft, pft .. pft. What the? He rose and padded outside in his socks. A car could be seen careening down the driveway, the occupants yelling incoherently headlights roving over the front lawn. Matthew looked back at the house dismayed to see eggshells scattered on the veranda and the bright yellow of raw yolk dripping down the wall.

It wasn't until the next morning when he went to check on the stock that he found the graffiti; DIKES LIVE HERE screamed bright red paint, the letters four-foot high across the exterior of the barn wall. It gave him a small modicum of satisfaction that the cretins couldn't even spell dyke; but not much.


	17. Besieged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who has sent best wishes to Australia lately. It is a disastrous state of affairs. I have not been personally affected, but I know quite a few people who were evacuated and of course I'm following all the news and sending donations to good causes. If you are crafty our injured wildlife need help and you can look up knitting or sewing patterns for pouches, they are always needed.
> 
> Anyway, in the midst of all that horror, it is nice to immerse myself in the mostly safe Avonlea world over on chilly P.E.I.

They stood in a semi-circle in the beaten down snow looking up at the graffitied barn wall; bare branches knocking against each other in the chill wind. Rachel sighed and Marilla reached out for her hand. "I just don't know why people care that much? How are we upsetting them?" she said.  
"Folks just want to hurt what they don't understand, I guess," Matthew replied sadly. He turned to fetch a bucket and a brush. It took the better part of the morning for them all to scrub away the words and even then, a coat or two of paint would be needed. As they worked, they speculated on how their neighbours found out.  
The phone was ringing when they got back to the house. Marilla picked it up and after listening briefly to a tirade by Rachel's son Thomas Jr, handed the receiver over. She sat down and watched as Rachel held the receiver to her ear, then winced and moved it further away. Marilla could hear Thomas' tinny voice shouting through the phone from the other side of the room, "you cannot do this to us, Mother!"

"Thom…" Rachel tried to interject.

"… reputation!"

"Now …"

"… children…"

"Thom…"

"… scandal…"

"I..."

"… outrage…"

"Just …"

"…father …"

Eventually Rachel hung up on him sighing, "there's no point. I can't get a word in edgewise." She turned around with tears in her eyes and sat down next to Marilla who hugged her shoulders comfortingly saying, "they never let you down, your family do they?

"No, sometimes I think, foolishly probably, that maybe just once they'll surprise me," Rachel glanced back at the telephone. "Looks like I'm still waiting."

The local police refused to come and see the barn wall, so instead they paid the police station a visit to lay a complaint. Constable Fletcher his name emblazoned on his chest had walked to the back of the station to fetch a pencil and a fresh piece of paper, sauntering languidly like melting molasses. He leaned over the counter, his bright pink neck studded with short white hairs, "so you don't know who it was, but they egged the house and graffitied the barn wall. What did they write?"

With a quick glance across to Rachel Marilla said, "they wrote dikes live here. They misspelled dyke."

Constable Fletcher took his chewed pencil out of his mouth, licked the other end and wrote down their words laboriously looking up at them suspiciously every few letters. "Hm."

"Well what are you going to do about it?" Rachel insisted.

He coughed with a deep chesty rumble and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, "do? I mean if you ladies lived a more decorous life, I've heard rumours too. All three of you shacked up the end of the lane like that. Tisn't natural."

"So, so you're not going to take any action? We're not doing anything wrong you know. Homosexuality was legalised some time ago," Marilla could feel the heat rising up her neck.

"That's as may be Miss Cuthbert, but country folk take a while to adjust. There's nothing we can do. If you want the town to accept you, you might want to have a look inwards, ladies. Now don't go getting all hysterical about it. Just fix your ways and I'm sure life will settle down." They watched in dismay as he deliberately tore up his notes in front of them and dropped them in the bin.

"Anne called," Marilla said a few nights later as they sat around the television watching The Twilight Zone.

"Mm," Matthew replied keeping his eyes on the television. "How's she going?"

"She's got a new boyfriend she sounds very happy."

Matthew smiled, "what's this fella's name?"

"Well, it's a bit unusual. I got her to spell it out I've got it written down." Marilla walked over to the kitchen bench where they kept their notes. "Ah, here it is vyvian Fitzwilliam-Smythe." Matthew raised his eyebrows. "I know. She thinks it's romantic, she says he does this thing where he has his Christian name spelled with a little v."

"Sounds ridiculous," Matthew said.

"Pretentious even," Rachel added.

"Well don't say a thing to her, it's nothing to do with us. So long as she's happy. She's bringing him over for dinner next weekend."

They had scrubbed the house and tidied away all the usual detritus. "There's nothing like meeting a new boyfriend to stir our cleaning focus," said Rachel as she dusted watching Marilla sweep. Marilla made no audible answer; but rolled her eyes as she cast around for the dustpan.

Next was the problem of dinner, vyvian was a vegetarian who apparently also couldn't eat alliums which Anne explained over the phone meant onion or garlic. "So," Rachel commented dryly, "all we need is some tasteless vegetable muck. Easy."

Marilla flicked through her cookbooks, "there must be something here he can eat." They had to make several trips to town to find the necessary ingredients to make a vegetarian dish tasty, their usual stock of spices not being up to the task. Marilla could feel her neighbour's eyes on her back as she browsed the aisles and fancied she could hear them muttering about her and Rachel as she passed by. Someone jostled her by tomatoes and when she turned to hear their apology was dismayed when they whispered a derogatory word to her instead.

She was practically in tears when she carried her bag of groceries out to the car but refused to let the town know how she felt. Sitting in the car she heaved a few big breaths dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and blew her nose; not quite crying, but pretty close to it. Green Gables had never felt such a refuge as it did that day.

She leaned back on the kitchen counter dropping her bags around her heedlessly and closed her eyes. Rachel found her there surrounded by the groceries an avocado rolling free of its bag. She bent to pick it up and found herself grabbed around the waist by Marilla. She comfortingly rubbed Marilla's back as she sobbed on her shoulder, "what is it, what's wrong? Tell me."

Eventually Marilla settled down and sat down to watch Rachel prepare a pot of tea. "It's our neighbours," she explained. "They hate us. I can't even shop at the grocery store in peace. I could practically feel their eyes boring into me and someone even cussed me by the tomatoes," she finished.

"The tomatoes hey, well that's brutal," Rachel teased gently.

"Not you too," Marilla snapped back at her. "I was upset."

"Yes, sorry. It is unpleasant," Rachel said placatingly. "Something similar happened to me the other day. I suppose we'll just have to put up with a bit of it. Surely, they'll get over it soon enough and we can all move on."

Sitting around the kitchen table Marilla nervously tapped her knee as she watched vyvian cast his critical eye over their simple house disdainfully. He and Anne had arrived in his green MG; an expensive vehicle and totally unsuited to the terrain. Anne had tried to warn him, but he wanted to give it a run out on the open road. After a hair-raising trip they sat in the Green Gables kitchen making desultory conversation.

For all his pretence of being avant-garde vyvian was frightfully straight and when he heard about Marilla's relationship from an acquaintance of Anne's he fobbed it off as a scurrilous rumour. He was dismayed when Anne explained that it was all true. They practically had an accident when he looked at her for too long and she had to grab his arm to make him look at the road again. It was too late to turn around and he supposed rude as well; and if truth be told, vyvian was just a wee bit curious in any event. He had never met a lesbian; did they look terribly different? He expected one to be butch with short hair and stout boots and one to be more feminine, but which would be which?

Truth be told Anne was not sure how she felt about staying with vyvian if he felt that way, but it had been a while since she had broken up with Roy and she was enjoying his attention. It was just nice to be spoiled for once. vyvian was a dear and looked after her in public and privately too.

They gave vyvian a seat next to Anne. Adorned with a pretty linen tablecloth for a change the table groaned under an array of salads. The ladies had out done themselves in an attempt to tempt vyvian's appetite. A crowning nut roast was the piece de resistance. Marilla had been practising the recipe for days and everyone else was heartily sick of it by now, but they made appreciative noises when she heaped a slice on their plate, at least the salads looked nice. vyvian didn't like the food all that much, there was too much of it and it was chilly. He liked something more substantial in this weather. Dessert was nicer a lovely steamed pudding.

After their meal they made their way out to the sitting room. Anne offered to help with the dishes, but Marilla shooed her out of the kitchen reminding her that vyvian was her guest. Matthew took care of them instead quite pleased to be out of the way. They sat around the sitting room, surrendering their favourite couch to Anne and vyvian and instead Marilla sat in an armchair while Rachel perched on its arm. vyvian cleared his throat embarrassed by their easy display of affection, even his parents did not publicly touch each other in that way and now two women were doing it.

"I don't think it's right," vyvian blurted out after about half an hour of small talk. He had found the whole situation increasingly uncomfortable yet they all treated it as completely normal.

"I beg your pardon?" Marilla said in confusion, though Rachel had a fair idea what he was upset about.

"You two … harridans. Doing heaven knows what together. It's disgusting that's what it is. Anne!" he commanded, "we're leaving." He pulled Anne to her feet and stormed out to the front door. Anne stood for a moment unsure of what to do. He was her boyfriend, but these were her parents. She looked back and forth a few times, wavering. "Anne!" bellowed vyvian. "Come." Marilla stretched out her arms to Anne pleading with her to stay. If she left now, who knew when they'd see her again, if ever.

With a final gasp Anne rushed to vyvian's side and together they made their way out to the mud-spattered MG which took off with a roar down the driveway. Although just to ruin the affect it got bogged half-way down the driveway and they had to trudge back down to the house to ask Matthew to extricate them with his tractor. Not a word was spoken apart from the necessary and half an hour later vyvian carefully negotiated the driveway and was escortng Anne out of their life. Marilla stood and watched her go tears freezing on her cheeks. Slowly she walked back into the warmth and sat down at the kitchen table and stared into nothing.

"You know I went to town today," Rachel said some nights later as Marilla caressed her with her fingernails tickling around her stomach and chest in languid circles; walking her fingers up and down Rachel's stretch marks.

"Mm," Marilla's voice was muffled against Rachel's breast.

Rachel smiled down at her fondly. "Yes, I popped into the travel agency." She had been walking along the wet street under a threatening slate grey sky, piles of dirty snow stacked up against the curb. A car had driven through a puddle sending icy water across her path in a dirty spray, despite her best efforts to dodge it she still copped a chilly blast up her calves. Turning to assess the damage her gaze was diverted to an azure blue poster showing an idyllic scene. Without over thinking it she opened the door and walked right in, a cheery bell announcing her entrance. The agent welcomed her tutting over the state of her shoes and after a brief chat handed her an assortment of brochures to peruse at her leisure.

Now in bed all that she received by way of answer from Marilla was an increased pressure against her nipple and an urgent digit between her thighs. Unwilling to interrupt Marilla's ministrations, Rachel snuggled down into the bed spreading her legs out wide. She knew she had better get the information out soon or she'd be beyond speech. Taking a deep breath she panted, "how ... about ... we ... go ... mm mm ...yes just like that ... mm." And with that all thought of travel was driven out of her mind as her body arched backwards on a wave of euphoria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I stole vyvian's forename from a chap I met at work once. He too spelled his name with a lower-case v. Most annoying, the auto-correct always had a conniption and I wound up looking like an idiot. But he did provide me with a suitable idiot for this story, so not all was lost.


	18. A Subtle Fire

A Subtle Fire* – Part 1

"Oh!"

A dolphin shot out of the water in front of them flapping its tail its silvery streaked body luminescent in the crystal-clear water. They'd watched them before riding the bow wave as if in joy, diving down to the depths and sliding back up for a breath of air before disappearing under again, their dorsal fins breaking the water effortlessly, creating their own small bow waves.

One dark grey day back in January when the whole world seemed set against them, they had pored over the brochures Rachel had brought home from the travel agency; bright images promising far off delights. They investigated other places but returned again and again to the thought of the island of Lesbos renowned as much for its reputation with the gay community as for its beauty.

Passports organised and flights booked, eventually the long-awaited day arrived, and Matthew drove them to the Charlottetown airport. First, they had to fly to Toronto to catch a connecting flight to Athens. They sat in the lounge and tried to calm down murmuring affirmations to each other. It was the first time in the air for either of them.

Rachel had a window seat and Marilla an aisle. Even before take-off Marilla was smoking a cigarette and she was not alone the cabin was full of blue grey smoke. The young flight attendant in her peaked hat and short skirt offered to place their hand luggage in an overhead storage shelf. Shortly after they were offered a drink and they both took a gin and tonic, as much to settle their nerves as anything. As the plane trundled along the tarmac out to the runway the attendants ran through the safety announcements. Marilla could see that most people took no notice, but she watched avidly. If something did go wrong, she wanted to be one of the survivors.

With a tremendous rattle and roaring engines the craft took off down the runway, it seemed incredible that such a behemoth could ever make it off the ground but with a small jolt it started to rise and they tilted back in the seat as the nose lifted and took the rest of the aircraft with it. Craning over Rachel's head Marilla could see the earth drop away and they grasped each other's hands in excitement.

They Were Off!

After that things settled down somewhat. An attendant brought them another drink with a bag of peanuts, and they flicked through the inflight magazine which promised even more exotic locations; India, Australia, Paris. Rachel pointed out an article about Greece showing the bright blue roofs of Santorini, "we're trend setters Marilla," she said with a smile.

"Oh you." It seemed inconceivable.

Many cigarettes later the Captain made the announcement that they were beginning their descent into Toronto. They had got pretty well used to flying by this point, but landing seemed daunting. When the plane landed with a thump the brakes were applied, and they were forced forwards in their seats and had to brace themselves with their knees.

Toronto Airport was a confusing array of people, airport gates and traffic, but they asked directions and were sent to the right gate. Fortunately, their luggage was booked all the way through to Athens, so they were able to forget it until then.

The plane to Greece was larger. This time they were sitting together near the aisle. When the plane was cruising at some incredible height Rachel grinned of a sudden and turned her head towards Marilla winking conspiratorially as she whispered in her ear. Marilla looked shocked then smiled back, "does it count?"

Rachel nodded. "It does if we say it does." Marilla's long skirt swished as she sashayed down the aisle. The bathroom was closed so they waited until the previous occupant had finished. There was really only room for one, especially since Rachel was on the heavier side, but they squeezed in and just managed to shut the door behind them. "Thank goodness we don't do it the traditional way," gasped Marilla as she yanked Rachel's skirt up.

"Mm," relied Rachel as she stuck her hand down Marilla's knickers. "Might be easier, really. I'm certainly not kneeling down. Now what?" she asked when they had finished.

"Now we walk out with our heads held high," Marilla said confidently. Their fellow passengers looked on in shock when Marilla was followed out of tiny cubicle by the heftier Rachel. Marilla could hear their exclamations as they walked back to their seats.

The movie had started by the time they returned and they sat down and watched Chinatown with the rest of the passengers on one small screen. The sound through their headphones was tinny and hard to hear and the movie not that great in the first place, but it was better than nothing. When the screen rose up into the ceiling the cabin lights dimmed, and everyone settled down for the night. Marilla was not tired so instead she put on her light and pulled out her book, The Joy of Sex.

Athens' airport made Toronto's seem tame by comparison. Masses of people slept on the floor using luggage as pillows with small children in their laps. "Maybe there's a problem?" mused Rachel, but this was just business as usual for the overstretched airport. Athens was miraculous. A somewhat dirty but incredibly ancient city with the Parthenon looming over, able to be seen from any vantage point. Fringed by dry hills the city pulsated with energetic crowds. Old crones invariably dressed in black ("Someone's always died," commented Rachel) toddled around looking for bargains while gangs of young men looked for women. They had booked a hotel and a taxi delivered them there, the driver screeching at all and sundry in increasingly strident invective.

"You know," said Marilla to Rachel's pink face as they looked out across the city from the inconceivably ancient pillars of the Parthenon on the Acropolis, "I don't think I've ever been so hot." They made their way down to the Plaka below and found a nice little taverna for lunch. They washed their tzatziki and taramasalata down with copious amounts of retsina before retiring back to their hotel for the afternoon siesta.

A street market diverted them the next day and they bought fruit, cherries, plums and peaches to sustain them on the ferry journey. Clothing stalls beckoned too, and they slowed down to peruse blouses and dresses, trying on a few and enjoying the bargaining process. Their bags weighed a bit more, but their wardrobes were considerably nicer. Small children ran at and around them like a flock of birds discombobulating Marilla, the stall keeper shooed them out of the way roughly. When Rachel looked upset the shop assistant mimicked pickpocketing and they realised the whole thing was ruse to separate them from their money and were less upset by her actions.

The next day they boarded the ferry to the islands. All manner of folk were there, local families huddled around eating home-made dolmades and spanakopita; young tourists and older ones like themselves; businessmen in suits, their ties looking uncomfortable. They watched fascinated from the upper deck as the cars streamed into the ferry at the next island. A circus was loading for an island tour, the elephant's truck yawed from side to side as the beast shifted its weight uneasily.

Santorini, or Thira as it was known officially, loomed above the ship, dark grey cliffs topped with a white-washed town with bright blue roofs. It was stunning from a distance and even prettier close up. Santorini was actually the remains of an ancient volcano, the main island the edge of the mountain and smaller one the cone. Their hotel located in a traditional building was welcoming. "Let's go exploring," Marilla suggested after they had settled in.

Narrow alleyways led around in circles and it was easy to get lost, but the town was small enough. One bar was offering a sunset view over the caldera and they weaved through the throng to find an empty table and ordered wine. It was rather special sitting there looking at the sun setting with the hubbub around them. The air was still warm, but the harsh heat of the full sun had dissipated now leaving a gentle warmth.

"You know," Rachel said as she swallowed her moussaka, "I don't really like retsina."

Marilla roared with laughter, "I don't either. I just order it because it's the local drink."

"Too piney for me," said Rachel with a grimace.

"Let's get some red wine instead," suggested Marilla.

"No," insisted the waiter, "you ladies need to try our famous metaxa." With a flourish he produced two small glasses and a bottle of the new alcohol. After dinner they managed to locate the hotel again and relaxed in their room. "Oh," sighed Rachel, those cobblestones are hard on their feet."

"Let me," said Marilla and they enjoyed a mutual foot massage that night.

The next morning the clanging church bells woke them first thing. "Oh no," Rachel stuffed a pillow over her aching head. The metaxa slipped down easily enough, but she was paying the price that morning.

Bump, bump, bump. The donkey knew just how to inflict the greatest pain as it walked as close to the wall as possible, closer even; scraping Marilla's knees painfully against the wall. The small animal looked friendly enough before she got on, but Marilla supposed it had a dull life carrying tourists up and down the steep path to the dock every day, it had every right to its act of defiance. She grimaced at Rachel who was suffering similarly. Back and forth on the zig-zagging path, down and down the donkey took them, its knees and theirs screaming out by the end.

A small boat bobbed up and down in the clear water at the pier and they held onto the crewmember's hand as they made their way over the gangplank. The boat trip out to the caldera took little enough time and they wandered around the landscape marvelling at its bleak beauty before taking the boat back to town. This time they took the more comfortable bus back up the winding road instead of the donkey.

On Perissa Beach the black sand squeaked between Marilla's toes as she and Rachel paddled along the waterside, their sarongs flapping in the breeze. They walked together or separated at times when one saw a pretty shell or piece of coral to inspect. Marilla carried a small collection in her hands, and Rachel had one of her own. At points Marilla grew too hot and she lay her sarong on the hot sand, took a wild look at Rachel and ran down the beach and into the water, relishing its welcoming embrace. The water was refreshing but not freezing like the sea back home. Laying on their backs floating in the gentle swell, their toes sticking out and gently moving their hands back and forth they could float for hours. Marilla had to work slightly harder at it than more buoyant Rachel. They developed a trick of submerging and finding each other's lips under water and in that way catching a sneaky kiss. That night in bed, they relished the salty tang of the water's residue on each other's bodies.

At the beach the next day they sat on the sand and watched in fascination as a tanned and muscly youth appeared out of the sea sloshing his way out from the depths, an octopus in his hand coiled its tentacles up his forearm in a futile attempt to free itself, its ink dripping into the water unheeded. "His mother will be pleased, no doubt," Rachel remarked. "That's dinner I'll wager." Marilla shuddered when she heard the puck puck puck of the animal's suckers releasing as the boy pulled himself free only for another tentacle or four to coil around his arm. The boy shook his hair sending an arc of water droplets from his long black hair. He walked past kicking up black sand as he went and disappeared into the town behind them. "Fancy that," said Marilla.

"Something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore," Rachel remarked flatly. Marilla raised her eyes.

Lunch was a delicious array of delicacies though they decided against the octopus on this occasion. Marilla particularly loved the way they marinated the lamb, but the white bait was Rachel's favourite. Both women adored the fried cheese and the salads. A bottle of the local wine completed the meal. Marilla had been to the post office to collect some mail and was intrigued to find one from Anne on this occasion. Anne had been rather quiet since she and 'little v' as they christened him had driven off through the snow that dismal winter's day. She slit open Anne's aerogram with her knife and unfolded the flimsy blue paper.

Marilla had been terribly hurt by Anne's betrayal but somehow, she felt sitting in that Greek taverna that nothing Anne could say now could upset her, still she was delighted to read: I am most dreadfully sorry for my actions at Christmas, Marilla. That and other things vyvian did made me question his morals. I should have told you earlier. But well I admit I did feel a bit guilty and that kept me away. But now I have wonderous news. I have a new boyfriend. No, don't be like that, it isn't just on the rebound. Actually, you know him already, it's Gilbert Blythe. Yes, my old school chum. Someone introduced us at a party, and we said we already knew each other. Of course, that let to us telling them the old story of getting stuck together. We had a long chat when the attention shifted, and he ended up taking me home. Nothing happened that night, I promise. But we have been out a few times since and well, Marilla, he gave me a friendship ring the other day. It's funny I was always kind of desperate to get away from the Avonlea boys, but now I find I'm with one after all and it's fun. I never really paid him much attention before, but it is nice to have a shared history…

Marilla looked up at Rachel, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"So, Anne's with John Blythe's boy now," said Rachel approvingly. "I always said they'd make a good match."

"You did?"

"Well I never said it to you. I thought it might be too close to the bone, as it were, but ask anyone."

Marilla scoffed, "well since there's no one here I guess I'll have to believe you."

Changing the subject Rachel said, "are we finished, shall I get the bill?" she waved her hand in the air. "I think it's siesta time, don't you?"

Their love making that afternoon took on a new fervour. Marilla had not realised how Anne's betrayal had upset her on a deeper level and with the news she was able to truly relax for the first time in months. Rachel stuffed the sheets in Marilla's mouth to save their neighbours as her cries of exhilaration rang out across the room. Marilla pounded the bed with her fist as wave after wave of euphoria washed over her. She fell to sleep straight after leaving Rachel unsatisfied. Rachel lay next to her watching her sleep and closed her eyes somewhat frustrated. Marilla stirred about the same time Rachel did and looked across at her. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Rachel reassured her.

"No, you put up with years of that nonsense," Marilla said as she tip-toed her fingers across Rachel's arm watching as the hair rose in anticipation.

"Anne's letter made you … hap-py," gasped Rachel as Marilla's fingers trailed down her abdomen. Marilla kissed her passionately her teeth gently pulling at her bottom lip, her tongue plunging into the depths as her fingers continued to caress ever southwards …

"Yes," replied Marilla much later. Rachel knew what she was referring to when she added, "it feels right somehow. I guess I always thought in some ridiculous way that Gilbert could have been my son in another life and if that couldn't be; at least if Anne is with him then he might be part of the family."

"Well they're not married yet, I guess."

"No, but I think Anne might be finally settling down."

"Well we can but hope, I suppose."

"Mm, hm," agreed Marilla as she snuggled into Rachel's back.

"Back on the ferry tomorrow, how do you feel about Lesbos?" Rachel asked, but Marilla was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Sappho


	19. Subtle Fire - Part 2

Subtle Fire - Part 2

That man seems to me to be equal to the gods  
who is sitting opposite you  
and hears you nearby  
speaking sweetly

and laughing delightedly, which indeed  
makes my heart flutter in my breast  
for when I look at you even for a short time  
it is no long possible for me to speak

but it is as if my tongue is broken  
and immediately a subtle fire has run over my skin  
I cannot see anything with my eyes  
and my ears are buzzing

a cold sweat comes over me, trembling  
seizes me all over, I am paler  
than grass, and I seem nearly  
to have died.

\- Sappho

*/*/*

Crystal darts of sunshine scattered out across the sea and down below the water was so clear they could point out shoals of fish as they rested their sun-baked arms on the railing. Both women were dressed in new sun dresses, straw hats and leather sandals. Rachel had bought Marilla a new necklace of lapis lazuli she'd admired in a Santorini market, and as it dipped down towards the water its deep blue facets sparkled against the aquamarine.

The hot sun was delicious on their backs as they gazed into the depths below, pointing out objects of interest. Fellow passengers were stripping down to their bathing costumes and a few had already jumped in; thankfully the splashes and excited squeals from the other side of the ship did not disturb their view.

In the distance their destination the Greek island of Lesbos beckoned. They were in no hurry to arrive embarkation would happen in its own good time. For now, they were just enjoying the scenery close to hand. A particularly loud squeal broke the peace and Rachel grimaced. Marilla patted her on the hand, "shh."

"I keep thinking it's a child falling in," Rachel explained.

"No need to worry, we're not responsible for children on this cruise remember."

"My head knows, my heart does not."

"I understand, every time you hear that sound you flinch."

"I do?"

"I suspect it's beyond your control." Marilla wanted to hug her close, but out in the open it was out of the question. Later in their cabin she would more than make up for it. The good thing about being women together was that no one questioned their desire to save money by sharing a room, Marilla doubted two men would be treated the same way. They gasped as a dolphin swam up from the depths and shot out of the sea, the water streaming off its silvery coat catching the sunlight caused a halo effect, like a large silver bullet.

The bright blue roofs on white-washed walls of Santorini had been stunning, they were not sure anywhere could be as beautiful. Indeed, from a distance Lesbos was pretty but in no way as memorable. Still from what they had read it would have other benefits to recommend it.

For somewhere supposedly so iconic the ramshackle Agapi Bar looked as if it would fall down at any moment. Pots of geraniums by day and fairy lights by night welcomed all, but most particularly women. The gentle jingling of strings of beads announced a patron's arrival and once in they were greeted with an array of small round tables topped with a vase and a lamp each stretched out towards the tiny stage. The music came from a three-piece band accompanied by a sashaying chanteuse, her sequinned dress catching the lamplight sending facets of light bouncing around the room.

"First timers?" someone commented as they stood in the doorway and took it all in.

"Mm," murmured Rachel. Marilla was struck dumb by the displays of public affection. Women, it was all women in various states of dress wandering around holding hands; kissing and fondling. People were joking, chatting, dancing together their hands draped over each other's backs. The noises coming from a back corner rather reminded Marilla of long-ago afternoons at Josephine Barry's place.

The owner, Laura Arnold had read up about the ancient female poet Sappho and the island of Lesbos. An English lesbian herself she longed for a place where women could express their love in safety. It had not been easy, the residents of Lesbos were not all that charmed by the idea of hordes of licentious women arriving on their island, but Laura persuaded them with promises of the money to be made. She was right. With minimal marketing, rumours of her establishment in particular and the island in general soon made Lesbos a popular destination with women the world over. They brought themselves and their fat wallets.

"Well I'll just give you a menu," Laura said after she had found them a table. "Would you like a drink while you're waiting. I'll get you the house wine." She'd seen so many women like these two before. First-timers were unused to the antics her patrons got up to on a daily basis. Behaviour that would get them into trouble at home was de-rigeur in her bar. Best to leave them to it for a while, they were in shock most likely.

They barely spoke that first night, preferring to people watch. Occasionally one or the other might point out an antic rarely seen at home even for heterosexual couples, but for the most part they just nursed their drinks and listened to the band.

The next day they slept in. wandered around the town and went down to the beach for a swim. Without a word they both knew their day was spent waiting until they could visit Agapi once again. They enjoyed a shower together after their swim and chose dresses to wear to dinner. "How do you feel about meeting new people?" Marilla asked.

"What do you mean 'meet'?" Rachel asked back.

"Oh, I dunno," Marilla waved her hand around airily. "Kissing I suppose. I heard some things going on in the back. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything, but things might get out of hand. And if they do what do you want to do? Leave or see what happens?" Rachel examined her quizzically for a while, thinking it through. They loved each other that much was true, but could she risk losing Marilla to some exotic woman? "You are my one and true love, you know that. But if you don't feel safe, we'll just go for a drink and leave," Marilla said reassuringly.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. How about I let you take the lead, if you want to leave, we'll leave. If not, then…" Marilla left the sentence trailing suggestively.

Laura was pleased to welcome them back, sometimes people found her place too daunting. It was busy but she found them a nice couch by the wall from which to watch the goings on. "You might make some new friends," she told them. "People are always keen to chat."

Numerous couples came over to say hello not because they wanted anything, just because it was such a novel thing to meet like-minded women. They explained that they were from a small island off the coast of Canada, while the couples they met were from all over; Europe, America, Britain, Australia, Japan, Africa, everywhere. It was just wonderful to explore new ideas and hear how difficult cultures reacted to their way of life. After a few drinks though, they got to their feet and made their way home. A middle-aged American couple, Janice and Sharon had offered to drive them to a beach the next day and they wanted to get a good sleep beforehand.

Janice was in her early forties and Sharon was a couple of years younger, they had met in a bar in downtown Cincinnati. Neither had ever married but they enjoyed a clandestine relationship. This was their first time away together and they were enjoying themselves immensely. They were intrigued by Rachel's marriage and tutted over the edited story of her horrid husband.

On their second last night they visited Laura's Bar once more feeling far more relaxed. Now they felt like old hands and were welcoming to newcomers as they had been welcomed themselves. Someone handed over a couple of joints. Marilla stubbed out her cigarette and puffed the reefer sighing as the drug washed over her, she could feel Rachel relax into her side and the two of them felt the warm lassitude envelope them. When a tall and slender topless woman sat down in the small space between them and turned to Rachel to chat Marilla felt slightly jealous. The woman, Sarah explained that she was from Omaha Nebraska and was recently single. She chatted and flirted with Rachel, barely acknowledging Marilla. Later, when she pulled Rachel's dress over her head and bent down to kiss her breasts Rachel lay back and spread her legs. Marilla sat back, the drugs no longer having the desired effect, while another woman sat down on Rachel's other side to run her fingernails across her expansive stomach. Marilla was beginning to wonder if coming to the cafe this night had been a good idea after all.

Laura walked by with a bottle of wine and smiled when she saw what they were up to. It sometimes took her clients a few nights to really get into the thick of it. Rachel looked like she was really enjoying herself, but Marilla did not. Laura was pleased for Rachel it was what the place was renowned for across the globe. Marilla saw her looking and beckoned Laura over. Out of concern Laura she walked over to Marilla to ask her if she was okay.

"I'm fine. I think I'll leave her to it," she said looking down the backs of numerous heads attending to Rachel's every need.

"Come and tell me all about it," Laura suggested, pulling Marilla over to a spare table.

"She's had a hard life," Marilla said quietly glancing back at couch every few seconds. "Not many opportunities to let herself go."

"Mm, she seems to be making up for lost time," murmured Laura patting Marilla's hand in commiseration.

"Yes, I guess so."

"Usually these things are just flings, rarely does it mean anything. Just let her have some fun."

"It's stupid," said Marilla disconsolately. "I was the one who suggested coming here and gave her leave to depart if things went beyond her comfort zone. What a fool I am." The moans and murmurs from the couch grew louder as it appeared Rachel was getting closer. Nervously Marilla picked up her wine glass and took a few gulps then watched as Laura refilled her glass.

"If you can, don't take it personally. She's probably not even capable of conscious thought, she's riding that wave right now. If anything, Rachel probably thinks you're there in the throng, ravishing her," Laura said. "In my experience, you can make this a thing or decide not to. I'd be very surprised if she could remember a single name tomorrow."

Marilla looked at Laura appraisingly, "I sup-pose so," she said hesitantly. With a series of shouts Rachel and her coterie reached their climax and they all lay back panting. After a moment, they all left one by one to replenish their drinks or their joints and Marilla surreptitiously sat back next to the now sated Rachel. Rachel was incapable of speech at that point she just looked at Marilla with wonder in her eyes and blinked rapidly. "I might need a hand getting her home," Marilla said with a sigh as she looked up at Laura.

*/*/*

"Well," Rachel said when she woke up next to Marilla the next morning, her body thoroughly loved inside and out. "When we said we might experiment, I'm not sure what I meant. But..." she puffed out some air and swallowed hard.

Marilla had been awake for some time during the night, finding it hard to relax into slumber. She had thought Laura's words through and decided she was right, Rachel was overdue a bit of fun. Why risk losing her over a bit of nonsense when after all she, Marilla was the one who had suggested it in the first place?

Marilla rolled over towards her saying, "you were magnificent, the star of the show I'd say."

"Normally I'm a bit self-conscious about my weight."

"They loved every inch of you."

"Well they made love to every inch of me," Rachel replied with a knowing smile.

"That's what I mean. I never want you to lose a single pound, darling. I love you just the way you are."

When Marilla walked out of the shower towelling her hair dry Rachel was looking at the guidebook, "there's still a few things I want to see."

"Mm?" Marilla sat down on the bed her towel falling away.

Rachel looked at her then back down at the guidebook, "ahem, yes there's the petrified forest and the castle of Molyvos built in the 11th century I believe. They sound interesting."

"You don't just want to go back to Agapi for lunch?"

"Marilla Cuthbert, there's more to Lesbos than lesbian orgies."

"Mm, I suppose so," said Marilla as she walked her fingers up Rachel's inner thigh.

"You are incorrigible."

"And you love me for it! But if you want to go sightseeing, we'll go sightseeing."

"Well we might be asked what we saw and what we did, and I'd like to say that I did slightly more than make love to numerous women, as nice as that is," said Rachel contentedly looking down at Marilla's bare back.

"There's Skala Eressos it's a nude beach," Marilla suggested.

"Nude beach hm," said Rachel suggestively.

"Yep, I've never been to one, have you?"

"You know I haven't. Remind me dearest one where the PEI nudist colony hangs out."

"On Lesbos, I'd say."

"Must do."

"I suppose we won't need our swimming costumes?"

"Goes without saying."

"Defeats the purpose."

"As it were."

The women gently teased one another as they packed for the day. They each wore a sarong with a bikini top and stuffed a picnic and towel in a bag for the journey down. They met a convoy outside the Agapi. Several couples had cars and they jumped into one of these sitting squished together in the back seat with another couple, this time some Canadians from Winnipeg. "PEI, huh?" they said when they were introduced. "Like Anne of Green Gables?"

"How I loved that book growing up," Marilla said. "Have you been to Lesbos before?"

"We come every year we can't enjoy this sort of freedom at home. We come here for a month and it sustains us all year long. We haven't seen you here before."

"No," Rachel explained. "This is our first time. I don't think it will be our last though." The car went over a particularly large bump and they were thrown up squealing a bit, Marilla had to stop her head from colliding with the roof with her right hand.

"Sorry, sorry," said the driver who tried to slow down. "Nearly there." She brought the car to a halt in front of a long and sweeping beach with red sand that reminded them of home.

It was delightful to be able to express their love in public unencumbered with clothing. Though the sand did go everywhere as they found out to their dismay, still that was for later. Just now to lie in each other's arms kissing while the sun beat down was a rare and delicious pleasure. They felt slightly self-conscious initially, but as their friends confidently disrobed and lay down on their towels or sarongs it seemed ridiculous to be shy. Marilla felt very white beside these tanned goddesses. Although she had caught some sun along the way, her breasts and bottom stood out starkly white. These women had evidently been here a few times, their tan lines were non-existent. "Don't worry about it," one woman said when she noticed how Marilla unrealistically compared herself. "We all start out like that. A few days here and you won't know yourself."

There was a delicious silky sensation when one skinny dipped. Marilla couldn't help noticing how Rachel's breasts bounced as she jogged down to the water's edge and they took a life of their own when they floated in the sea. They spent a delightful afternoon on the beach chatting with their new-found friends about all manner of things. Where they met, how life was back in their respective homes and how marvellous this newfound freedom was.

Later that night as they both nursed a glass of wine and shared a plate of dips with crusty bread at another local taverna Rachel made a pronouncement. She had just taken a rather too large bite of bread and the tzatziki trailed out of one corner of her mouth. Marilla leant across the table to wipe it up with her thumb and licked it clean. Rachel smiled her thanks and said, "you know I've been thinking."

"Mm," said Marilla as she dug her next piece of bread into the skordalia.

Taking a deep breath Rachel continued unsure how this next piece of news would be received. "Yes, I'm thinking I might go to school," she finished in a rush and then looked intently at Marilla to gauge her reaction.

"School?"

"I would say back, but well it's been a long time since I studied."

"You never had a chance did you, darling. You were encumbered with children from such a young age."

Rachel shuddered. Not that she hated her children, just the means by which they were brought into the world. "No."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Um, well, you'll think I'm being ridiculous," Rachel started to back away, to second guess herself. Though she had been contemplating it for a while.

Marilla was silent. She took another sip of wine as she waited and glanced up at the string of red lanterns that adored the courtyard.

"Counselling. Before you talk me out of it," Marilla looked shocked, she had no plan to do anything of the sort. "I just think I'd like to help women like me out. I think I have a wealth of experience and I would have liked someone like me to talk to. You'll think I'm being ridiculous I know but..."

"I don't think you're being ridiculous at all," Marilla interrupted. "I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. You'd be magnificent at it darling. No one can know quite how demoralising it is to be in that situation unless they've been there." Rachel relaxed she had been so wrought up in anticipation of Marilla's reaction. Had been ready to argue her point, and probably be defeated. She had been stewing over it for weeks but had promised herself she would share her idea with Marilla before they returned home. It had been difficult to fully relax into her vacation with it weighing on her mind.

"Really?" tears welled in Rachel's eyes.

"Of course. If I were ever in that situation sweetheart, you're exactly the sort of person I'd want to talk to." The waiter appeared and replaced their spent dishes with a platter of fish.

After dinner they lay on their bed and continued the conversation, "I was worried about your reaction," Rachel said.

"Were you? Why?"

"I thought you'd think I was out of my mind. That there would be no way I'd be clever enough to study."

Marilla turned and gathered Rachel into her arms, "darling, that bastard of a husband of yours did more than batter your body. He battered your confidence too. He put you down for so long you started to believe him. I think," Marilla kissed the top of Rachel's head, "I think you are one of the most intelligent women I know. You'll do so well at college you won't know yourself," she moved her lips down Rachel's jawline saying between kisses, "I can't wait to watch you in action. It will be a thing of beauty."

Rachel smiled. "The only problem is that we'll have to go home. I could stay here all my life."

Marilla pulled back momentarily, "That is a drawback. Today was incredible and look," she said rolling Rachel onto her stomach. "Your bottom has already caught some colour."

*/*/*

The engine throbbed to a stop and all that could be heard was the call of the gulls around the mast. Looking back at the small rowboat that trailed behind Marilla could have sworn the thing was floating in mid-air rather than water so clear was the sea below it. "Coming for a swim?" Rachel appeared by her side clad in her bathing suit.

The water was heavenly, just the right temperature and crystal clear. The group they were with swam and duck-dived and luxuriated in the water. It was their last day on the island and they were determined to make the most of it.

They had chartered the boat from the small harbour and the gruff captain agreed on a price and took them to a secluded cove. He suspected his wife would not approve of his passengers, but she would like the money.

In the water a small pod of dolphins appeared and swam around and over and under them, making their odd clicks. "It's just like Flipper," Rachel called over to Marilla. With a few strokes Marilla swam over to Rachel and they embraced and kissed in the water as the dolphins played nearby.

"I'm never going to forget this day," Marilla said as she relaxed in Rachel's arms on the deck a while later.

The captain spied them out of the corner of his eye and pointedly looked the other way. He did not approve of their behaviour but on the other hand, he fingered the wad of cash in his pocket, these ladies did have their uses.

"When I die, you can come and find here," said Rachel languidly, blissfully unaware of the captain's opinions. "I think I'd like to come back as a dolphin. They look so carefree."

"I will, but not for a long, long time, my love. I intend to stay with you forever," Marilla replied before they lost themselves in a kiss as the boat sailed back to port.


	20. Unleashed

"And she had big hair, like an exploded sofa." Rachel's whole body jiggled with amusement. She was going off to class every day and brought home the most amusing stories to share over the dinner table. "And then her clothes. Well I know I'm a bit overweight Marilla, but at least I dress appropriately. This woman's top was too short and her pants too low. She spent all day pulling her top down and her pants up, and we still saw far too much of her belly button."

Marilla laughed at Rachel's grimace, "oh dear."

"Yes, so I spent the day watching her more than I listened, which was unfortunate."

After the excitement of their vacation it was lovely to return home to Green Gables. On their last night on Lesbos they had bade farewell to their new friends and promised to write and to catch up again next year.

The journey home was uneventful but over a glass of wine at Toronto airport Marilla had some advice for Rachel, "I think perhaps you had better tell Lucy the truth," she said.

Rachel looked at her sideways, "about Matthew?"

"Mm hm," Marilla nodded. "I think she has a right to know. Take her out to dinner one night and lay it all on the line. She may have had an inkling already, who knows?"

Sitting opposite Lucy in a booth at a local restaurant Rachel's mouth went dry and she had to gulp down her glass of water first. "Darling," started Rachel her hands clasped on the table. "I need to tell you something."

Lucy paused her mouth stretched over her burger, "mmm?"

"Yes, um that is to say." All Rachel's rehearsals over this moment came to naught and she paused collecting her thoughts. She nodded at Lucy telling her to take her bite and waited not wanting to make her choke. When she had swallowed it down, Rachel continued, "um, it's just that, um…"

"You're going to tell me that Daddy isn't my father aren't you."

Rachel just gaped at her then stammered out, "how, how did you know?"

"I always knew, I'm so different from the rest of them. It's not just that I'm the youngest, I just never really related to them at all. I used to creep up to Green Gables just for the peace and quiet. I doubt they knew I was there, it was so calm up there. I loved hearing Matthew talking to the cows or muttering to himself over some piece of work. I used to fantasise that he was my father instead of Daddy."

"But you didn't know for sure?"

"No, but it doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

"You're not upset, I mean I was unfaithful to your, to him."

Lucy laughed, "unfaithful? To that jerk. No, I wish you'd done it sooner, Mum. Then perhaps I would have had some company growing up. I think they sensed I was different and I certainly didn't enjoy being the butt of their jokes."

"Oh, Lucy," Rachel reached out to clasp her hand as tears brimmed.

"You had enough on your hands at the time I can hardly blame you. But as childhoods go it wasn't the best."

Rachel felt guilty, but on reflection Lucy was right, at the time she was just hanging on by her fingernails. It was easy to forget now in such a loving household how truly awful living with Thomas had been. Lucy picked up a French fry and munched on it before saying, "in a way you're living my best dream up there at Green Gables. How are Matthew and Marilla anyway?"

"They're fine. Marilla and I are very happy, and Matthew is a dear."

"How's the sex?"

"Lucy!" Lucy grinned at her mother who relaxed as she thought about it, "actually it's wonderful. I never really knew it could be so nice."

"Nice!" snorted Lucy. "That's not a very passionate word for it. Nice," she scoffed.

"Oh well would you rather I said it was orgasmic?" her mother grinned back.

"Oh, uh, er no, nice is fine," said Lucy embarrassed all of a sudden.

Rachel laughed at her wickedly, "good to see this old girl can still shock her daughter."

She paid the bill and asked Lucy if she wanted to come up to Green Gables, there was a spare bed after all.

"If I do will you keep the sex to a minimum please. I don't need to hear you two at it all night."

"We hardly made a sound, I assure you." It was true, Thomas was a noisy lover grunting and screeching on top of her which meant Rachel preferred to do it quietly so as to avoid any reminders of him. Still she assumed correctly that Lucy wouldn't believe her.

"I brought a friend and er, daughter with me," Rachel announced as they walked in the door. Marilla looked up smiling, but it was Matthew who got to his feet and shuffled nervously. Lucy broke the ice by enveloping him in a warm hug, "can I call you Dad now?" she whispered in his ear. Matthew broke into possibly the warmest smile he had ever made and hugged her back. He had wondered as she grew if she was his and now to have it out in the open; to be acknowledged openly as her father, well it warmed him right down to his toes. Anne was his darling, but Lucy was his biological daughter. She would never supplant Anne, but well she was his.

"Champagne!" Marilla announced as she walked back in with a tray and four glasses. "I definitely think this is a cause for celebration." They clinked glasses and all smiled together happy that the secret was out at last, at least between the four of them. Matthew laughed when some bubbles went up his nose making him sneeze.

"You know," Marilla said reflectively. "You two could go on a trip together. I feel a bit guilty that Rachel and I went away and left you Matthew. How would it be if the two of you took a vacation? It might be nice, a chance to connect properly."

*******

"Have you heard the latest?" Two of Rachel's sons, Keith and Bruce were chatting at the pub over a glass or two.

"What's that?"

"She's only gone and enrolled in a class."

"Who?"

"Ma."

"No!"

"Yeah as if she thinks she'd ever be clever enough."

"What's she even studying then, needlecraft?"

"Counselling I believe, I expect she'll drop out as soon as it gets too hard."

Bruce sniggered, "I always thought of her as a brood mare, always pregnant."

"Dad was a bit of a stud," Keith threw his chest out. "But Ma…"

"Exactly, but now she's getting a bit stuck up, arrogant. I blame that bitch she's living with. Marilla Cuthbert always did have airs on herself. She'll be leading Ma astray."

"Did you hear they've been away?"

"Yeah, Greece wasn't it? What a waste of money. That's our inheritance she's spending," Bruce complained.

"I still can't believe that bloody lawyer gave Dad's inheritance to her. What was he thinking? By rights that's our money."

"Still," Bruce thought. "I'm glad she's not living with us. We haven't got the room."

"Room for her lardarse," Keith guffawed. "Yeah, well who does? Another?"

Bruce looked at his watch, "yeah, may as well. "It's the kids' teatime, they're a complete pain in the arse around about now. I like 'em better when they're sleeping."

Keith brought the beers back and said conspiratorially in a lower voice, "I've been seeing someone."

"Oh?" Bruce's eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, my secretary. She's a cute little thing." Keith described her curves with his two hands. "And she's a little firecracker in the sack. I've been putting in a lot of overtime lately," he added with a wink.

"And what about ...?"

"Oh, she's oblivious stupid bitch. She's so busy with the kids, she'd welcome it anyway. We haven't done it for months. 'I have a headache, it's my time of the month,'" Keith mimicked her higher voice. "It's hardly my fault, a man has needs after all."

"So what's her name?"

"Stella. She's European, very exotic. Has some intriguing moves. Her English ain't that great, but I didn't hire her for that. She has the most magnificent tits, I got hard the moment she walked into her interview."

"You've got a boner just thinking about her," Bruce said admiringly looking down at his brother.

Keith glanced down, "oh yeah," he snorted. "You could have a go if you liked. I'm happy to share, after all what are brothers for?"

"Another?" Bruce asked.

"Nah better not, don't wanta be caught by the cops," Keith tapped the side of his nose clumsily. "Anyway, come around later this week if you want a go. Stella'll be up for it."

"You don't think she'll mind?"

"Nah, she does what she's told. She's good like that, unlike some I can think of."

"Sometimes I think of Dad's advice, I just give her a little tickle; nothing much, just to keep her in line ya know," Bruce said.

"Yeah, they need that I reckon. Dad knew what he was about, I mean we turned out okay."

"Speaking of which," Keith added after a beat. "It's Dad's anniversary next month. Two years, can you believe it?"

"Poor bastard. If I ever find the shit who did that to him…" Bruce said aggressively.

"I mean it's Avon-f'ing-lea, it's hardly Toronto."

"Exactly." They swigged the last of their beers and left their cigarette butts in the dregs.

Keith couldn't remember when he lost respect for his mother. He had loved her when he was little of course. She was his world, always there with a hug or a treat. She was pregnant with his younger sister when he was just a toddler and exhausted all the time, but she always had time for him. When he was about ten or eleven his attitude changed. He was proud of his father, admiring the way he carried himself and started modelling himself on his bearing and that meant rejecting his mother. He never really noticed the way his father mocked his mother until he grew older and to gain his father's approval started to copy his behaviour.

One night after dinner Thomas came to Keith's room to congratulate him on his latest school results. Rachel had a black eye that night and had stumbled around the dinner table spilling his soup, Thomas had lost his temper. "I'm sorry about your mother," he explained. "She can be a little highly strung at times. Don't mind her. It's the man's job to keep his wife in line. You might need to do it yourself one day, it's how a strong man behaves. They act hysterical, but really they like it when a man rules the house. You ask your mother, she needs me to take the lead."

Keith had taken his fathers words to heart and followed his advice from then on noticing as if for the first time how useless his mother was. He believed she was infantile needing Thomas to show her the way even if it took a little persuading. She became the butt of the family jokes as they all belittled her.

When it came time for him to marry he emulated his father's methods. He chose a wide hipped, rather simple minded woman unconsciously. Not because he wanted it that way necessarily but because clever women intimidated him. The first time she angered him and he sunk his fist into her stomach it excited him and he had sex enthusiastically that night.

******

Not all Rachel's stories were humorous of course, sometimes it was very upsetting. One afternoon she came home crying and sat on the sofa looking out into the middle distance blankly. Marilla brought her a glass of wine and a cigarette to calm her. "What is it?"

"We looked into intergenerational violence today. How it affects the children even if it's kept hidden. They usually know and they think that's normal behaviour and often the boys go on to perpetrate it themselves. And it's surprising how often the girls marry their daddy as it were, and find themselves stuck like their mothers."

"How does that make you feel?"

"Sick to my stomach. I wouldn't be surprised if the boys were abusing their wives now. Juliet said her father was abusive and she's worried how she will cope if the same thing happens to her."

"Juliet?"

"Just a fellow student, we had lunch together."

"Rachel," said Marilla consolingly. "You can't blame yourself for how your children were influenced by him. He was the abuser, not you. You were just doing what you could to survive."

"But if I had left him I could have spared so much pain."

Marilla looked at her warmly, her eyes full of concern, "if you're finding it too difficult?"

"No, no I'm going to keep at it. It's going to be hard at times, I know. But..." she glanced across at Marilla.

"Of course, I'll always be here for you darling. Beside you every step of the way," Marilla walked over to sit beside her and hugged her close.

"If I have you, I can keep going but I don't deny it's challenging at times."

Marilla hugged her tightly and hoped that it would be alright.


	21. It’s a Man’s World

The swish swish of the windscreen wipers provided a counterbalance to the steady thrum of rain on the roof, but otherwise the car was silent as Marilla drove homewards. With a clatter and a final groan, the car glided to a halt. She turned the key and pressed the gas repeatedly but it was no use the engine was dead.

She didn't fancy sloshing her way home through the pouring rain, but the car wasn't going anywhere. She could sit it out she supposed but who knew how long she'd be waiting in the increasingly chilly car. She had just about resigned herself to opening the car door; knowing that she'd be cold and wet mere seconds later when the lights of another car played across her dashboard. She waited for a moment then looked up at a knock on her window. Who should it be but John Blythe? Inwardly sighing she cracked open the window. "Need a hand?" he offered politely holding an umbrella over the door.

John bloody Blythe. Of all the knights to rescue her in her distress it had to be him. Cursing the creator Marilla sighed then smiled up at him, "I suppose so, thank you."

Marilla sat in his car for a few moments collecting herself. It was warm and she reached out her hands to the heating vent to defrost her fingers. Realising that she was being ungracious Marilla turned her head to him aware of the water running down his rain slicked hair. "You're soaked," she said quietly.

John brushed the water out of his eyes and grinned at her, "it's small price to pay for an act of mercy," he said bowing his head towards her. A car flashed by sending a spray of water over the windscreen obliterating the view momentarily until the windscreen wipers did their job.

"Bad time to break down," John said simply.

"It's been giving me some problems for a while," Marilla said. "But I hoped it might last a wee bit longer."

"Do they think it's repairable?"

"Matthew says he's done all he can for it. I think it's time to buy something new or newer at least."

"Matthew was always handy," John said admiringly.

"Mm," agreed Marilla. "If he says it's had it, it's probably done for. I'm sorry I was a bit churlish back there, you really did save me. I am very grateful. I wasn't sure what I was going to do."

"Always delighted to help an old friend," John said graciously.

Marilla was quiet for a moment. "Are we still, that is to say do you still consider me a friend, John?"

"Of course. We may have had our differences, Mar but after all this time I think we can let bygones be bygones. You're happy enough, now aren't you?"

"Oh yes, I am. We are very happy."

"It's funny."

"Mm?"

"You and Rachel. Just never saw it coming. Glad for you both though."

"Thank you. You don't think…?"

John glanced across at her wiping a stray trickle of water from the tip of his nose then placing his hand back on the steering wheel, "think it's a sin? Nah, you're both adults. If it makes you joyful what business is it of mine? There's enough sadness in the world as it is."

Marilla placed her hand on his forearm momentarily overcome with emotion; even after all this time they didn't get much support from their neighbours, "thank you for saying that John. It means a great deal."

"S'nothing."

"No," Marilla sniffed. "No, it means a lot."

"So, the kids," John abruptly changed the subject.

"What? Oh yes, they sound ecstatic."

"Going better than us by any account," John said with another glance across at her.

"Yes, they seem to be," Marilla replied a trifle wistfully.

"Regrets?"

"Not now, not after all this time. But back then I was I admit. Were you?"

"Yeah, I guess. Yeah, I was. I suppose we shoulda worked harder at it, at us."

"But then there'd be no Gilbert which would make Anne sad and Rachel would have no one. I think it all worked out for the best after all," said Marilla musing.

John swung the car along the Green Gables driveway sending a small wave up through the puddles, "you alright to get out through this?" he said peering up at the torrential rain. "Don't think I can get much closer."

"Yes, I'll be fine, and I can get changed as soon as I get in. Might even treat myself to a shower," Marilla replied. "Thank you for the lift, consider it your good deed for the day."

John tipped his imaginary hat to her and watched as she got out of the car and quickly shut the door after her to save his car upholstery.

Despite her best efforts Marilla was soaked through the moment she alighted so she turned and watched him drive away giving a short wave of thanks as he looked across the hood at her.

The shower cascaded down, the hot water thawing her frozen limbs. Later sitting in a dressing gown, her damp hair tied up in a towel she thought about her life. Funny how things turned out. At the time she thought her life had come to an end when John Blythe left her, how very wrong she had been.

*/*/*

A red pickup truck caught Marilla's eye in the Chevrolet sale lot. She needed something that could manage the back roads in all weathers. Wandering around she opened the door and peered inside. She had been there for some time before a salesman wandered over and introduced himself, "we have a lovely little sedan over there madam," he said pointing.

"No, I need something with a bit more grunt than a sedan," replied Marilla still peering inside the cabin. "Can you pop the hood for me. I'd like to look at the engine."

"The Impala is very popular with grandmothers," the salesman, M. Petit tried again. "Plenty of room for the grandchildren." He thought he knew Marilla's type, he was wrong.

"Look," said Marilla impatiently turning to look at the man. "I need something that can cope with country life. I'm not interested in a sedan I live on a farm. Now can you show me the engine, please?"

Sighing heavily M. Petit reluctantly opened the hood for her fully expecting she would have no comprehension of what she would see so he was stunned when Marilla started grilling him on the workings of the engine and what she could expect from its performance. Eventually, satisfied that it would meet her expectations, unlike some cars she had already seen Marilla started talking prices. Yet again the salesman was bested and eventually they agreed upon a price which Marilla was happy with, even if he was not. "Do you offer finance?" Marilla asked in the end.

"Mrsss Cuthbert," M. Petit accentuated the sibilant s's, to make her know her place. "You must know we cannot lend money to a woman as we need a man to act as surety in case they abscond."

Marilla glared at M. Petit in his cheap powder blue suit and wide orange tie. "No use looking like that Mrs Cuthbert, just come back with your husband."

"And if I'm not married? I don't believe it's illegal for a woman not to marry is it now?" Marilla replied waspishly.

The salesman pressed his fingertips together and smiled at her condescendingly but refused to budge. Marilla was so angry she contemplated not buying a car at all, but she wanted and more to the point needed one.

Shopping around was useless as all the car dealerships on the island gave her the same story. No finance without a man's support. Eventually, reluctantly, Matthew drove her to the least officious showroom and signed the papers on her behalf. Wisely he never mentioned it again.

*/*/*

"Anne," Matthew said over the dinner table one night when she came for dinner bringing her usual ebullience with her.

"Yes," replied Anne as she picked up her chicken leg.

"I have something I need to tell you."

"Oh?" said Anne, looking at them all in turn. "Is anything the matter?"

"No, not the matter exactly," Matthew explained carefully. "Just something we think you need to know. It was a long time ago," he began. "Rachel came up to the house for a visit one day. Our parents were still alive, but Marilla was out visiting. Rachel was upset, weren't you?" Matthew said looking across at her.

"I was," she nodded her eye glistening with an unexpected tear at the memory.

Anne looked at Matthew, chicken leg dangling forgotten in her hand, "what are you saying? Why are you telling me this?"

"Anne, I am Lucy Lynde's father," said Matthew flatly. "She was conceived…"

"No! No don't tell me where she was conceived. I don't want to know, urgh," Anne stood up, her chair squeaking noisily against the floor as it was shoved backwards. "You disgust me! How could you? Rachel was married at the time," she rushed out of the room.

"I'll go," suggested Marilla as she got to her feet. "Anne?" she knocked at the door of Anne's childhood room.

"G'way," Anne sobbed.

"Anne, talk to me. I know how you feel. Remember that time you found me crashed into the snowbank, that was the night I found out."

The door opened a crack and Marilla took it as an invitation to enter.

"You overreacted somewhat then?" Anne said with a smile.

"I did," admitted Marilla as she made her way over to Anne's bed and sat down on the bedspread. "I was jealous."

"I feel a bit that way myself. I thought I was his only daughter."

"The thing about it is this Anne. Love is not finite. His love for Lucy can in no way effect his love for you. You can love more than one child."

Anne snuggled into Marilla's side, "that's true I guess," she conceded.

"I was upset because I thought Rachel was unfaithful to me, but on reflection of course I realised I wasn't even in a relationship with her at the time. She was unfaithful to Thomas of course, but it's not like I cared about that. He was um… not a nice man."

"Is Matthew angry with me?" Anne asked.

"Not at all. He just hopes you will forgive him. Do you think you can?"

"I guess so, it's a shock that's all. I never really thought of him in that way, with a woman."

"Mm, I know what you mean. He never seemed the type somehow. In a way," added Marilla musing. "It makes me happy to know he did have one fling in his life." She raised her eyebrows at Anne.

"Mm," Anne agreed.

"Do you feel ready to come back down?"

"Just give me a moment or two, alright?"

"Of course, we'll be down there waiting for you," Marilla got to her feet and looked back at Anne when she reached the door. "Think of it this way, now you have a sister."

"Oh," said Anne wonderingly. "I hadn't thought of that. I always did like Lucy," she smiled.

*/*/*

"Oooh," squealed Marilla over the telephone as Rachel and Matthew looked up in shock. It took a lot to get Marilla so excited. She cupped the receiver with her hand and mouthed, "they're engaged" at them. "Details darling, tell me more."

Grinning from ear to ear she eventually sat back down at the table and sipped her wine before continuing. "Gilbert proposed over dinner and Anne accepted. They want to get married here in the garden."

"When?" Rachel asked, already starting to make plans in her head.

"September, just before school goes back, she said. They'll be coming over for dinner on Saturday to discuss it."

*/*/*

"Class was interesting today," Rachel said that night. "We looked into the reasons women stay with their abusive husbands. It was a bit uncomfortable because of course some people were asking how foolish women could be, and well you know…" Marilla patted her hand. "At lunch Juliet was discussing it. I had to keep quiet, but she thought women who stayed had to be crazy or stupid or both. Then in the afternoon we looked at different forms of abuse, it's not all physical. Ever hear of gaslighting?"

"No."

"I reckon that French chap you went out with John Thumb gaslit you. He sounded like a textbook case. They make out their cruelty is your fault."

"So, in a way we've both been subject to abuse?"

"Yes, I guess that's true," Rachel laughed sardonically.

"It makes me a bit sad," Rachel said later.

"What does?" asked Marilla laying down her magazine.

"Their getting married. I mean I'd love to marry you if it were legal."

"Ah, yes," agreed Marilla as she hugged Rachel close. "I see what you mean," she sighed deeply. "At least we're not living in fear of being locked up and I suppose we're lucky it probably wouldn't change anything anyway. My commitment to you is secure."

"Yes, that's true, but still, I'd just like to have it on paper, so the world knows we're serious about each other."

"Serious," smirked Marilla. "I'm seriously in love with you, that much I know and nothing else matters really." She picked up her magazine again and continued reading an article with interest. "Mm," she murmured after a few minutes.

"Hm?" Rachel said.

"Oh, it's just this article is talking about female sexuality; apparently the clitoris is more sensitive than the tip of the penis."

"So?" Rachel wasn't much interested in penises.

"Well my darling," Marilla explained as she caressed Rachel's inner thigh. "It means that we have more fun than any man could. It means," her fingers caressed deeper, "that you're enjoying better sex than that bastard who abused you ever did." Her magazine dropped to the floor unnoticed as Rachel's legs parted in anticipation. "That's a delicious thought," panted Rachel before she was swept away.

*/*/*

A big storm was brewing and traffic snarls meant that Rachel was home later than usual. Rain came down horizontally in the stiff wind, Matthew was out in the fields bringing in the cows and Marilla could hear the window shutters banging incessantly. Putting her raincoat on and pulling on her boots she dashed out into the looming storm. The clouds had a strange green tone to them, the sort that announced the weather would soon deteriorate. Marilla rushed around securing the shutters barely noticing the violently shaking tree branches. She had nearly got them all closed and was just securing the last one under the old oak tree by the back of the house. With a loud crack a branch came away from the trunk, Marilla fervently hoped it would miss the house, which in the end it did. But a minor though still large limb broke away from the rest and landed a glancing blow on the back of her head.


	22. In the Dark Alone

"Marilla, Marilla!" Matthew called out as he came back into the house. "Is everything secure?" There was no answer, but he thought he could hear one shutter still banging in the back of the house. She always forgets that one, he thought grumpily as he dragged his sopping raincoat back on and sloshed his way around to the back. A tangled mess of leaves and timber greeted him as he rounded the corner. Thanking his lucky stars, the tree had managed to miss the roof Matthew made his way over to the window. Having secured the shutter, he glanced around and in dismay caught sight of his stricken sister laying under a medium sized limb. "Marilla! Marilla!" he shouted against the rising storm. He shook her by the arm but there was no response.

By rights he should have left her until the paramedics arrived but there was no time. Thunder was rumbling and the world was momentarily lit by bolts of lightning in the building storm. The limb was long and unwieldy but not too heavy and he managed to get it off her quickly enough. Then picking her deadweight off the ground he slung her over his shoulder with some effort and ran through the rain as quickly as possible praying that she would be alright. He got through the door just as a terrific lightning bolt lit up the dark sky, its answering thunder report immediately following. The rain turned to hail at that point, and it felt rather as if the world was ending. Matthew laid Marilla down on the couch and went to fetch some blankets. He removed her wet clothes then wrapped her up snugly in a blanket and turned to the telephone but the dial-tone was dead.

The hailstones were pinging off the house and making a terrific racket. The last thing he wanted to do was drive through the storm and in fact quickly determined that he would have to wait. It wouldn't do any good to kill themselves on the treacherous road. There being nothing further he could do for Marilla at that stage, Matthew fetched himself a cup of coffee and sat down beside her to wait until the storm passed. She was breathing, that much was sure, but apart from being unconscious there were no other apparent injuries. Matthew prayed to the God he never really believed in to keep her safe.

\---

Matthew passed Rachel driving home in her distinctive lime green Volvo and flashed his lights at her. She stopped on the opposite side of the road and reversed back to him. He explained the situation with Marilla laying on the backseat still wrapped in her blanket. Rachel peered into the car and went deathly pale, "has she stirred?"

"No, she's out cold. I couldn't get through to the ambulance so I'm taking her to hospital. Come with me." Rachel locked her car by the side of the road and climbed in next to Marilla cradling her head in her lap. While Matthew drove she whispered words of love and support as she stroked Marilla's damp hair.

They were met in the emergency bay. The paramedics quickly took charge placing Marilla on a gurney and wheeling her through glass doors. A triage nurse met Matthew and Rachel and asked what had happened. Matthew quickly explained how he had found her covered with branches. He apologised for not ringing an ambulance, but the nurse waved away his concerns. A great many folk had experienced telephone issues. "Come this way," she gestured to Matthew but when Rachel made to follow, she turned to her and asked, "and who are you?"

"I'm, that is to say, I'm her er, friend," finished Rachel lamely.

"Family only in Intensive Care I'm afraid. You'll have to stay out in the waiting room," she gestured to the right before marching after Matthew and the gurney.

Rachel stood in the middle of the doorway in shock unable to make any sense of what had just happened. She was more than Marilla's friend, but how to make them understand? She watched as Marilla's gurney trundled away and around a corner. She stood there so long, practically catatonic, that the paramedics got banked up behind her and loudly told her to move even pushing her roughly out of the way. Eventually an orderly came and led her over to the chairs and pushed her down.

Matthew sat in an uncomfortable chair watching Marilla hooked up to all sorts of machines aware that she had probably sat in a similar room when he had suffered his heart attack. This time it was his vigil. "Come now Mar," he said to her. "Can't have you disappearing on me. We have so much life left to live." A nurse entered the room took her vitals again and nodded to Matthew before leaving. All around them the hospital was buzzing, but in their room all that could be heard was the hum of the machines and Marilla's ever so slow breathing. Outside the sun had burst through the clouds and the world looked fresh and new after the storm. Matthew turned at the sound of footsteps and was pleased to find Lucy. They embraced before Lucy placed a small kiss on Marilla's forehead and she explained that she was allowed in on the basis of being Marilla's niece. "I feel just awful for Mum though," she said. "I mean she's the one who should be here, not me. But they don't see it that way."

"I'll go and explain," replied Matthew. "They have to let her in." But he returned some minutes later; shaking his head defeated. "No, they say they can't make an exception. Friends just weary the patients. She can visit when Marilla graduates to the general ward."

Matthew drew up another chair and sat down opposite Lucy. For a while they sat in silence looking at Marilla then Lucy smiled momentarily. "Mm?" Matthew asked.

"It's silly. I should be in the moment," she replied.

"No, tell me."

"I was just thinking of the sight of you falling off that horse."

True to their word Matthew and Lucy had vacationed together recently. Rather than the heady sights of the Bahamas as Rachel had suggested, instead they went horse riding on Vancouver Island, first marvelling over the heights of the Canadian Rockies and then at the incredible wilderness so different to PEI. Initially they had been shy with each other but as the days passed, they settled into an easy familiarity; that and some shared memories had helped forge a sound relationship. Matthew had nearly fallen off his horse their first day and Lucy riding behind had been worried, but he had managed to right himself in time so that it made for no more than a humorous anecdote.

Matthew smiled at her, "did you enjoy it?"

"The vacation? Yes, it was wonderful. Did you?"

"More than I can say."

They settled down into a companionable silence then, comforting each other by their presence alone until at last Lucy stirred, "I had better go see Mum. She'll be fretting."

"Tell her I'm sorry," Matthew said as Lucy left the room.

Lucy met Anne coming the other way down the corridor, her red hair impossible to miss. They greeted each other and Lucy pointed out the room to Anne and left her to it. Rachel was pacing in the waiting room. "Is there any news?" she asked breathlessly.

Lucy shook her head, "no. She's still unconscious. It might be a while they said. Can I get you anything? Have you eaten?"

"No, no, can't eat. I'm too wound up." Rachel sat down momentarily before getting to her feet to pace again. Wringing her hands, she walked up and down the waiting room saying over and over to Lucy, "I'm sure she'll be fine don't you think? She'll be fine, won't she?" When she staggered slightly, Lucy rushed to her side and told her firmly that she would take her home. "It might be hours, days even. You have to sleep Mum. There's nothing you can do out here and Matthew will ring with any news."

\---

Anne joined Matthew in the clinical room. She rushed over to examine Marilla closely while Matthew looked on, "is she? Is she?"

"She's unconscious," Matthew explained. "We won't know anything until she wakes."

"Oh, Matthew," Anne breathed. "I was so worried. Sorry I couldn't get here earlier. The roads..."

"I know, lots of trees down. I found her in a tree, did I say? Looked like she was hit."

"You did. Gilbert says it could mean anything. She might be just fine. This might just be her body's way of recovering. He was working in the clinic, but he'll be by as soon as he can."

"Of course, must be busy for him right now, lots of injured folks, like..." he nodded towards Marilla.

"I think so. He only had time for a quick conversation before he was called away." Anne sat down in the chair Lucy had recently vacated. She would sit there until she fell asleep. "Do you need a break?" she asked Matthew after a while.

"Might go stretch my legs," he said yawning. It's been a long day. You okay?"

"Yes, yes of course, I'll sit with her. Go," she shooed him out of the room.

Anne contemplated Marilla in the barren hospital bed. She may not have been Anne's biological mother but Marilla had always been there for her. Had mothered her through the tricky teen years with an unwavering love. She was the mother of her heart now and Anne prayed she would be alright. She had not told Matthew the whole truth of Gilbert's words to spare him, but Gilbert was worried. "Could be anything, Anne-girl," he had said quickly. "Brain damage or coma, there's no way of knowing, but I'd be worried if I were her doctor. I'd want her to wake up soon."

Matthew brought her some snacks and a cool cup of weak coffee from a machine in the waiting room. Anne sipped it appreciatively before lapsing into her own thoughts.

\---

Marilla stirred as she heard a multitude of footsteps approaching, their unfamiliar shoes making a racket along the linoleum floor. The familiar hands of the nurse plumped up her pillows and set her back against them, informing her in her soft Scottish brogue that since she had awoken the doctor would be including her on his ward rounds.

"Mrs Cuthbert," said the doctor in his stertorous voice shortly after. "Do you mind if we examine you?"

Marilla nodded towards his voice.

"Right then," the doctor continued to his murmuring students. "Patient was felled by a tree in the recent storm. Pupils are not reactive, but there seems to be little other damage, ideas?"

The students came up with a few suggestions which he rejected out of hand eventually declaring that he believed her optic nerves had been severed and as a result she would be totally and permanently blind. This was news to Marilla who wasn't sure he was even talking about her. "Excuse me," she interrupted. "Are you talking about me?"

"What?" the doctor said abruptly, "yes, we are examining you, Miss Cuthbert. Er, hasn't anyone informed you about your prognosis yet?"

Marilla shook her head slowly in disbelief.

The doctor glanced at his notes, "My apologies Miss Cuthbert." He turned and she barely took any notice of the sound of the doctor murmuring to the nurse and then he and his students walking away down the corridor to ruin someone else's life.

"He's the suppository of all wisdom, that one," the nurse said looking at the disappearing back of the doctor and his various sycophants. Turning to Marilla and straightening her blankets she added, "now, now hen, it's not the end of the world. They'll send you to rehab and you'll learn how to navigate this new world of yours. Plenty of blind people succeed. I admit though, he could have broken the news in a gentler manner. Men!" she finished huffing. "They're quite stupid sometimes." She handed Marilla a tissue and rubbed her shoulders. "We'll be moving you out into the general ward shortly I expect, you can receive more visitors, that'll be nice won't it." Marilla missed the touch of her capable hands when she left and was left alone as the devastating news began to sink in.

\---

Like anyone Marilla had played with the notion of blindness, had closed her eyes and navigated her house for perhaps a minute or more. Turned out this was not the same. The safety net that once you opened your eyes all would be revealed no longer applied. This unrelenting nothingness was her new reality. The last thing she saw, the mundane sight of the closed window shutter looped over and over in her mind's eye, it was the last memory at night and the first in the morning never to be replaced; it made her a bit dizzy

There were nights Marilla dreamed in such vivid colourful detail that when she woke, she was confused forgetting for a fraction of a second that her sight was gone. For the minutes that followed she felt the grief all over, the loss of things she'd never even considered missing. She never saw her own aging, forever in her fifties in her mind's eye, though her fingers would inform her of her wrinkles in due course.

\---

Rachel was there to meet her in the ward when her bed was wheeled in, she felt rather than heard her initially as familiar hands caressed and hugged her, "Marilla, I've missed you my dear."

"You couldn't visit before?" Marilla asked almost petulantly. "Lucy was there, but you were not."

"I couldn't. I'm not related you see. They regard me as a friend, no more. They told Matthew friends exhaust their patients and there were no exceptions. You'll never know how much I regretted it, Marilla dear, but I'm here now and I won't leave your side."

"I'm blind, Rachel. He," Marilla stuttered. "That is to say the doctor said the tree severed my optic nerve. I'll be blind forever."

Rachel nodded then realising Marilla wouldn't pick up on non-verbal communication ever again, said gently, "I know dear. I know. We'll just have to adjust together. We'll face it together, yes? Matthew says you'll be sent to the rehab centre after this and they'll teach us all how to live. Even he and I will be getting some advice on how to help you." She drew away but Marilla cried out for her touch.

"Don't go, stay. I need you," she waved her arms around. "I feel better when you touch me. I feel lost, incohesive. Somewhat transparent when no one is with me. Like I might disappear."

Rachel was helping Marilla with her lunch, gently explaining what her options were and feeding her a spoonful at a time. Marilla reached out suddenly and managed to knock over her water. Barely any liquid escaped her no-spill mug before Rachel placed it back on the table. "Want a drink?"

"I'm dying for something stronger," Marilla said.

"Not while you're on those meds," the deep voice of her doctor startled them both. He talked to Marilla briefly telling her that she would soon be transferred to a rehabilitation hospital before walking away.

Rachel picked up the spoon again momentarily letting go of Marilla's hand. Marilla clutched back at her and held on fast. "Now Marilla you have to let go of me I need two hands to feed you," Rachel complained. "Matthew, can you give us a hand here?"

Matthew took hold of Marilla's hand and held it gently as she clung to him for dear life.

"Excuse me, I'll be back in a moment," Rachel explained leaving Matthew to help Marilla.

Rachel found the doctor out in the hallway, "er doctor, I am Marilla Cuthbert's er friend you know. I'm worried about her. She seems incredibly anxious. I can't leave her alone for a moment."

"Friend?"

"Yes, er that is we live together."

"I cannot discuss her case with you. It is a family matter."

Heartbroken Rachel went to swap places with Matthew who asked the doctor about Marilla. Rachel could hear the two men walk down the corridor. Eventually Matthew returned and told her they had agree to try some anti-anxiety meds.

"I don't need more drugs," Marilla's voice rose in volume and pitch. "Do they think I'm headed for the loony bin. It's not easy for me here."

"Shh sh, we won't do anything to hurt you."

"You want to drug me so I won't mind when you desert me and go off to live your life. Are you just going to dump me?"

"Marilla, nothing of the sort dear. but I need a break. We can't have someone with you all the time. I need a shower. I just need to know you won't wake up in a panic if I do so."

Marilla's heart was racing but she settled down when she heard Rachel's words. She had been by her side for days now. "It's just I feel like I disappear too, like the world around me has. I just need your touch," she sobbed.

"I know, I know."

"The doctor said the drugs might help with that," Matthew interjected. "Make you feel less worried about it all."

Gently the two of them coaxed Marilla into taking the pills and watched as she settled back on her pillows and after a while close her eyes. For the first time in what felt like ages Rachel was able to drive home, have a good hot shower and stretch out in her own bed - bliss. She was so exhausted she barely noticed how cold it was sleeping alone, but it was a strange thing to wake up hours later and find the other side of the bed empty. She and Marilla had been sharing their sleeping arrangements for so long.

Marilla was still asleep when a freshly showered Rachel re-entered her room the next morning and she continued to sleep all day. Rachel had wanted a break, but this was getting ridiculous. She tried to rouse Marilla but all she got was a groggy hello before Marilla sunk back into slumber again. Once again, she needed Matthew to intervene before the medical staff would react. The doctor agreed to adjust the prescription and a less anxious but more alert Marilla returned to them after a few hours.


	23. Allora

"Andiamo."

Marilla's occupational therapist was the centre of her new world. She had met him on her first morning in the rehab centre. Someone with squeaky shoes and a trace of old spice aftershave entered her room and she had turned her head away listlessly, what good could anyone do now? Her life was over. "Is this Miss Custard er no I mean Mustard?" a man said in a gentle European accent.

"Cuthbert," snapped Marilla reproachfully, emphasising the 'bert'.

"Ah Cuthbert of course, my apologies. Let me introduce myself, my name is Giuseppe Ricci. I'll be your slave er therapist today. Would you like to come with me?"

Giuseppe helped Marilla out of bed and manoeuvred her into a waiting wheelchair. She felt a tightness across her belly when he adjusted the strap and then the sensation of movement as he pushed her chair out of the bedroom. The corridor was busy, and Giuseppe seemed to know many people patients and staff who greeted him on their way. His attitude irritated Marilla, she was his charge he should be attending to her not chatting with his friends.

The timbre of the noise changed when they reached a bigger room. Doors banged behind them and Marilla was aware of a more cavernous space with voices bouncing off the walls. "Welcome to the rehab room, Miss Custard. You'll be spending a great deal of time in here," Giuseppe announced.

"It's Cuthbert," Marilla reminded him tetchily.

Giuseppe undid her seat belt and pulled her to her feet. "Now I am just going to lead you around this room, Miss Cuthbert, or may I call you Marilla?" He said her name with such a exotic intonation that Marilla didn't mind the informality despite feeling wildly out of her element. She clutched at his hands and swayed on her feet. He pulled her along with him very carefully talking softly to her all the while, telling her she was doing very well. "Just put one foot in front of the other, Marilla. I have you I won't let anything happen to you; you can trust me." She found herself listening to his accent and strangely that calmed her. Her heart stopped beating wildly in panic and she started listening to his words and following his instructions. "There that's better you are more comfortable, yes? I will take you around the room, there's nothing that can go wrong." Around her Marilla could hear the voices of other patients working on their own specific problems but she kept her attention fixed solely on Giuseppe's comforting voice as she ever so slowly shuffled after him. When they had completed a couple of transits around the room Marilla faltered drenched with sweat. "Brava, Marilla. Allora we take a break now, yes?" Giuseppe declared as he led her over to a chair and helped her down. "Coffee?"

"Yes please."

"I don't drink the horse piss that they serve here. I bring my own from home. See what you think?"

Marilla sipped tentatively, "ooh…"

"Yep puts hair on your chest, eh"

"Well..."

"Oh, sorry not the sort of thing you're looking for I guess," Giuseppe laughed.

___

"Tell me about Giuseppe?" Marilla asked her nurse the following morning as she helped her dress.

"Such a waste. You know what they say; all the handsome ones are taken or gay." Marilla smiled.

"What do you look like?" Marilla asked Giuseppe over their morning coffee, curious after all this time.

"Well I'm incredibly handsome," he started. At another table one of his colleagues scoffed, "I have black curly hair and dark eyes. I should probably shave more often." He reached out to take Marilla's hand and pulled it gently towards his face telling her, "feel."

"Does your wife complain?" Marilla asked after she had touched his stubble then muttered, "sorry that's none of my business."

"No that's fine. No wife."

"Goodness when you're so handsome." The same person scoffed again.

"I'm um not really attracted to girls," Giuseppe leaned back in his seat and sucked through his teeth. If it went badly Marilla would request a new therapist but he always preferred to be upfront.

"That's interesting," replied Marilla slowly. "I rather prefer my own sex too."

"Ahh I see we are simpatico Marilla."

Marilla returned his gaze with a wonderfully open smile that quite transformed her face. Giuseppe felt he would do anything to see it repeated. They swigged the last of their coffee and Giuseppe said, "Andiamo, back to work."

Somehow when Giuseppe used Italian, she didn't mind his orders so much. All she really wanted to do was hide away from the world in her bedroom under her covers but with one simple command Giuseppe would make her forget all that and she'd get to her feet and work some more.

"Okay," Giuseppe said that morning. "I have something for you." He placed a long smooth stick in her hand. "This is your cane. This will be your best friend, it will be your eyes," he explained.

Gradually with Giuseppe's help Marilla grew more confident at moving around the therapy room. It no longer seemed unfamiliar and she grew to regard it as a safe place. Sometimes she would freeze in panic and then Giuseppe would gently tease her with bungled versions of her name. He'd call out, silly, frilly or even Hillbilly Marilly or Buffbert, Cutebert or any one of a number of other mistakes. It was stupid but it broke the tension making her laugh and she felt more relaxed afterwards. It became their little inside joke and she found herself eagerly anticipating the next way he might mangle her name.

One day after lunch he took her outside. By that time, she'd learnt how to take him by the arm and be led along, casting her cane widely just for the practice. She was learning how to read the messages the cane sent back to her arm and he would tell her what she was 'seeing'. "See the wall has changed and here's a step." Or, "can you feel the gradient changing? There's no step on this curb." Every night she went to bed exhausted by this new way of experiencing and reading the world.

Matthew, Rachel and Anne also attended some sessions on how to help. First, they were given eye masks which hid all traces of light to give them an appreciation of her experience. A therapist led them out to the garden and let go. As one they turned their arms outstretched stumbling around in the dark. Next they practiced leading each other. "Now just take your partner by the arm," the therapist directed. "And tell them what you are doing and what to watch out for. We find the points of the clock a good descriptor, so for instance you can say there's a doorway at 3 o'clock." They also learnt how to get into cars, to navigate doorways and how to describe their surroundings; all things Marilla would need help with in the future.

On Friday Giuseppe made an unwelcome pronouncement, "tonight you'll be going home for the weekend."

Marilla's face fell. She had unwittingly grown fond of the rehab hospital.

"You can't stay here, there's no point. I won't be here Miss Frilly Marilly so it would be boring without my handsome self to amuse you. No, you must go home. Just for two nights, yes? Then you can come back and allora... Okay, I want you to do some house work while you are there."

"Housework? asked Marilla," confused. Why would Giuseppe think the house needed cleaning in her absence?

"Yes, I want you to map out your house. Count out how many steps it is from any point. So you know how to navigate even without your cane."

"Oh," said Marilla laughing.

"Eh?"

"That's homework. Housework is cleaning."

"Basta!" complained Giuseppe. "English is a ridiculous language."

Marilla had wanted to return home so desperately but now the thought terrified her. How would it be when she couldn't see it? How would they manage her care? The nurses and Giuseppe knew what she needed and when, but she did not think she could rely on Matthew, Anne or even Rachel. A nurse helped her pack, not much because she had things at home, but she took her cane and a few comfortable things.

___

The crunchy sound of the gravel under the car wheels alerted her to their proximity. Strange she'd never really noticed it before. Marilla hadn't been there since the accident. She stood in the hallway taking it all in. Beside her, her brother and lover waited. Rachel said, "you must be exhausted, do you want to take a nap?"

"I'm not an invalid, Rachel. You don't need to stuff me out of the way," she snapped.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry. What would you like to do?" Marilla felt in her handbag for her cane and pulled it out. "I want to explore, if that's alright with you?"

"It's your house, Marilla. Of course it's alright," Rachel said, hurt.

Marilla knew she'd upset her, but she couldn't worry about it, she needed to map out the house in her head to learn how many steps it was from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen, from the bedroom to the bathroom and everything in between. She knew the layout well enough, but she had to re learn it from this new perspective. The others wandered off to leave her to it. She wandered around tapping her cane; a new but soon to be familiar sound for them all.

Sometime later she heard the familiar pop of a champagne bottle and Rachel called out, "want a drink?"

Marilla stood in the kitchen and in a panic thought how to navigate her way out to Rachel. Taking a few deep breathes she calmed down and thought, I can do this. "I'm on my way," she called out to Rachel.

Rachel looked up from the glass as Marilla tapped her way slowly into the living room, "come and sit down. I have a glass ready for you here." Rachel put a glass into Marilla's outstretched hand. "Did I tell you Anne and Gilbert are coming for lunch tomorrow?"

"No."

"Sorry in all the excitement I must have forgot. They're so excited to see you back here even if it's only temporary at this point. Anne is cooking." Matthew joined them and they drank a toast to Marilla's homecoming.

"That will be lovely," Marilla sipped her champagne again before putting the glass down steadying it with her other hand.

"How are you dear?"

"I'm fine, just fine."

"No," Rachel put her hand on her knee and squeezed ever so gently, "no, how are you?

I'm f…" But the words won't come. She's not fine. She doesn't think she'll ever be fine again. "I'm," she started again as the tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks. She faced away from Rachel still unwilling to give in to it, worried that if she let herself cry she'll never stop. The only time she cried was that time in hospital when the surgeon delivered the news so bluntly and that was mostly shock. Silently Rachel waited until Marilla capitulated, as terrible as it was bound it be it was necessary. It took a while even then as Marilla gulped for air hoping the wave of fear and dismay would pass. It was only when Rachel changed her position moving her hand to stroke Marilla's back that she leant in and let go. It was everything Rachel expected: awful and loud and messy but as Marilla wailed in her arms Rachel felt a tight knot in her shoulders dissipate. Wordlessly she gathered Marilla into her arms and held her as she sobbed.

Matthew heard the noise and glanced through the doorway. He was comforted to see Marilla crying her heart out while Rachel provided comfort. He'd always been amazed by Marilla's strength, but this was bordering on ridiculous. No one could be so stalwart in the face of such adversity. He retired to the kitchen to give them some space and put on the kettle figuring tea might be needed soon. He figured it was thirsty work. Hunting out a few of his big handkerchiefs he put them on the tray too. Matthew let the tray rattle a little to alert Marilla, at the rehab place they told them not to creep up on her.

After a few sips Marilla whispered, "you know I think I will take that nap."

"Of course, let me help you," Rachel offered.

"I can do it myself you know," Marilla says pitifully.

"Of course, you can, I just want to help you. Let me help you dearest Marilla. Let me in."

Marilla sighed and held her arm out for Rachel to take. Together they made their way up the stairs and Rachel pulled the bed covers back. Marilla laid down and closed her eyes. Rachel watched her for a moment and relieved that Marilla seemed to have settled, left her to it.

"Thank goodness," Matthew greeted her when she came back downstairs.

Rachel sighed, "yes."

"Mm hm, she was like a pressure cooker about to go off."

___

"Rachel!"

Rachel woke to the sound of Marilla calling out close by. She shot out of bed immediately feeling the chill of the floor on her feet, "what is it? What's the matter?"

"I'm lost. I thought I had the whole house mapped out in my head, but I can't find the bed, where are you?"

Rachel caught hold of Marilla's trembling arm and led her the last few steps. "Here we are, you were nearly there dear. Come lie down next to me." Marilla shivered and trembled next to her. "I'm frightened," Marilla said simply.

"Of course you are." Marilla calmed down eventually, she had almost forgotten how warm and comforting Rachel could be.

"Thank you," Marilla said the next morning after a chorus of birds had awoken her. She'd never paid them much mind before, but now they alerted her to the fact that it had to be light outside.

"Whatever for?"

"For not saying everything will be okay. I don't know if it will be or not but when someone says it I feel shut down as if I have nothing to complain about."

Rachel made a sound of surprise, "that's not how I mean it, when I do say it."

"Maybe not, but it's how it makes me feel."

"In any case," Rachel continued. "This is hard and you are quite within your rights to feel that way."

Anne and Gilbert arrived mid morning. It was strange for them to see Marilla in her natural surroundings yet looking so remote. She seemed ill at ease in what was normally her home. Anne brought a large chicken pie and they all sat down at the kitchen table. Anne could not stop staring at Marilla as she ate, it was just so foreign to her to see her normally confident mother eating so tentatively. Marilla reached out suddenly and managed to knock her drink over the glass making a thud against the table and before anyone could reach it had rolled off the table and shattered on the floor. Marilla burst into tears, ashamed at her clumsiness. Instantly Matthew and Rachel leapt to their feet to mop up the drink and clean up the shattered glass. Anne sat by Marilla and comforted her, "there's no need to cry over spilt milk. It's all right, we all have little accidents. It's nothing really, shh shh."

Marilla was quiet and still a bit shaky after lunch. Anne said, "let's go for a walk." With a clutter they all agreed that that sounded like a nice idea. Marilla was reluctant, but Anne insisted, "it's a beautiful day, you'll enjoy it."

As they strolled along enjoying the weather Anne leading Marilla said, "the sun is out."

"I know," said Marilla tilting her face up. "I can feel it. Thank you, Anne," she patted her hand. "This is lovely. Tell what you can see."

"Well," said Anne thinking of how best to describe what she could see. "The birches in the hollow have turned golden as sunshine. the maples behind the orchard are royal crimson and the wild cherry trees are putting on the loveliest shares of dark red and bronzy green. Reassuring sunlight banks through the trees. It's funny," added Anne. "I've never really given the specificities of light much consideration until you lost the ability to see it."

"I've always loved this time of year. It's a pity to miss it, but at least I have someone like you to describe it to me Anne, and my memories to sustain me."

"How does it feel?"

"It's frustrating as heck."

"No, I mean how does it feel?"

"Oh," Marilla thought for a moment of how to explain it. "I think when you can see you constantly look around and adjust your consciousness to what's in your line of sight. When you lose that ability it's as if you don't exist. I'm always pressing myself against furniture to assure myself that I do." Anne strolled next to her, intrigued by this revelation.

___

"Can I say something," Giuseppe said emboldened after his first sip of coffee on Monday morning.

"What?"

"First tell me about your weekend?" he asked.

"It was," Marilla paused casting around for the right word. "Emotional," she said at last.

"Mm. You seem different."

"Different? How?"

"I'm not sure, just less wound up. Like there's less pressure inside you. You're more relaxed. I think going home was a good thing for you, despite your trepidation."

"I guess so. I had forgotten how much I missed it ... and her," she added after a moment.

"Yes, we take them for granted sometimes."

"Do you have someone?"

"Stan."

Stan? If Marilla ever thought about Giuseppe in someone's loving arms that person was not called Stan. "Tell me about him."

Marilla could hear Giuseppe's voice relax as he described his lover; the man was obviously besotted. Stan was Canadian, they had met on vacation some years earlier and Giuseppe had followed him home. When he had finished, Giuseppe asked Marilla about Rachel. That was a long story and one Marilla did not usually share with strangers, but she trusted him implicitly. She told him the full story omitting the method of Thomas' death, but it was hard to pretend she was anything less than delighted at his demise.

"And then she moved in with you?"

"Yes. that's right and we've been together ever since. We went on vacation to Greece last year. That was wonderful. I'm so happy we went there, I have such beautiful memories."

"You are the sort of woman who likes to be in control, I think."

"Mm," Marilla fiddled with her coffee cup but did not drink. Giuseppe watched as the coffee threatened to slosh out.

"And now you are not and it's the end of the world."

"Mm."

"And you have to adjust."

Marilla pushed her chair back its legs complaining at the sudden movement, and stomped away. She stopped after a few paces realising she had left her cane behind and therefore had no idea what was in front of her. She stopped, shuffled forward then stopped again. Giuseppe watched her dispassionately. Marilla turned around silently, arms outstretched but it was obvious she needed help. Another therapist shot a look at Giuseppe who shook his head. Marilla continued to circle but made no progress, she was getting increasingly panicky was no one coming to help her? Eventually she called out, "Giuseppe. Giuseppe!" Casually he made his way over to her and stood near but not touching. Ordinarily she'd sense his presence but in her distress she could not. "Giuseppe!" she shouted. "Help me."

"Okay," he whispered, and she could tell he was close. He reached out his arm and grabbed hold of her feeling her shaking in distress. "I'm sorry to do that to you, but you really are at a point where you need help. Later you will be okay, but you are still learning and right now you need us. There's no point in being too independent okay, just let us help you." Marilla collapsed against his chest and sobbed at the futility of her situation.


	24. We All Need Somebody to Lean On

Marilla had faced a great many challenges in her long life but one morning she decided, that's enough. It is what it is and now I have to come to terms with it and make as good a life as I can. She squared her shoulders and got up, experiencing that brief moment of panic when she opened her eyes in the morning and saw ... nothing. Marilla would often dream that she was sighted but when she woke up she had a moment of confusion when the world did not jump into view.

Apart from the loss of her beloved farm, perhaps the worst blow was the lack of independence. Rachel was there with her every step of the way, helping, guiding, listening, but Marilla no longer knew freedom. She couldn't just go for a walk on her own, or worse a drive. She had always loved driving. Just putting her foot down and finding herself where-ever. Of course, opportunities for that unbridled freedom were limited on PEI but the ferry beckoned and on occasion Marilla used it and pointed the car westwards and just went for it. Sure, she hadn't done that for years, but it was nice to know she could – except now she couldn't. Never again would she know the liberty of an open road.

Knitting was another loss. One of her favourite pastimes in past years was to sit by the radio or the television knitting up yet another scarf, hat or sweater. That seemed impossible to her now, and she fretted with her unused hands. Cooking was another joy that was denied her, or at least the chopping beforehand that she always found quite soothing. In time she found she could manage these activities again, knitting was mostly counting and if she was careful with the knife, she could chop any vegetable, though she nicked a few fingers while she sorted out her limits.

They say that your remaining senses augment the lost one. In Marilla's case rather than her hearing it was her sense of smell. She unnerved Rachel at times by greeting her before she had opened her mouth, the distinctive rose water perfume announcing her arrival more vividly than her voice might.

If Rachel had been out for any length of time, Marilla's response would be quite visceral, as even now desire would loop around her abdomen. At least that was one thing that she did not need sight for. She had thought she knew every centimetre of Rachel's body but it was only when she explored with her fingers that she truly got to know it, from the small raised bumps on Rachel's areola to the slickness within her vulva; the fine hair on her ear lobe and the crinkly depths of her belly button, that small mole on her inner thigh. Marilla traced her hands over and over Rachel's face reacquainting herself with her laughter lines, the fine wrinkles at the edge of her lips, her double chins and her aquiline nose.

After driving into town one morning Rachel helped Marilla out of the car and asked, "are you sure you'll be alright now?"

"Of course." Marilla's extreme fear manifested as it often did in waspishness.

"Okay then off you go," Rachel gave her a little push in the right direction and watched as Marilla momentarily faltered then pulled herself together and set off down the street the now familiar staccato tapping of her cane like a metronome fading into the streetscape.

Rachel sighed before she got back into the car. She raised her hand to wave at Marilla when she passed her out of habit but realised half-way up that it was in vain, she lowered it again hoping that no one had noticed then turned down a side street towards the library. She had a study meeting planned.

The street was busy with cars honking, dogs clattering along on their nails, an array of shoes: the deeper sound of men's brogues and the clicking of ladies' stilettos, it washed over Marilla in a cacophony as she concentrated hard on the task at hand. She was due to meet Giuseppe for lunch at a cafe some blocks away. Rachel had purposely dropped her off early to give Marilla some practice. She was getting pretty good at navigating the house and farm now, but town was a different not to say terrifying proposition.

Giuseppe was waiting for her. They had agreed to meet at 12.30pm. When he glanced at his watch he noticed Marilla was late; he hoped she hadn't run into any trouble. He purposefully sat looking towards the door so he could see her arrive. A few minutes later he saw Marilla hesitate on sidewalk and ask advice from a passer-by. They must have said what she wanted to hear because she nodded and he assumed said her thanks. Giuseppe got to his feet and wove his way through the tables to greet her as she entered. "Miss Marilly," he said with a smile.

Marilla's relief was palpable. Out on the street her nerves were at full alert, but with Giuseppe's simple greeting she relaxed knowing she was safe with him there. "Come I have a table over here; do you want some water?" he offered.

She nodded, almost beyond speech. He poured the water and placed the glass into her outstretched hands. She swallowed hard.

"How was that?"

Marilla carefully placed the glass down on the table and took some deep breaths. "Challenging."

"Tell me," Giuseppe said.

"Well," Marilla started. "It was okay at first. I found the cane informed me as you would expect. I think most people avoided me too, which helped."

"Mm hm," Giuseppe watched as Marilla relaxed into her story.

"I had mapped out my trip with Rachel beforehand, so I knew how many blocks I had to walk. I waited at the first curb for the lights to change and that's when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"What's with people grabbing me and dragging me across the road?" Marilla snapped all of a sudden.

Giuseppe laughed not unkindly, "ah you got one of those did you. I hear it's quite common."

"Common?"

"People think they're helping. You're standing at a curb so obviously they take you with them," Giuseppe said wryly.  
"But I didn't want to cross that road."

"Doesn't matter all that much it's actually about them not you. Your Samaritan will believe they did you a good turn."

"Well they didn't because then I was stranded on the wrong side."

"Yep," Giuseppe took a sip of water.

"And when I asked them to take me back, they got angry with me for wasting their time." Marilla was practically shaking with incandescent rage at the memory.

"It's really frustrating I know, but you managed to get back?"

"What? Oh yes, some kind helpful person assisted me. After that it was easy enough to find my way here and I asked for directions just before I arrived."

"Well done, it wasn't easy I'm sure."

"You folks want to eat?" Marilla jumped when the waitress started talking by her shoulder.

"Yes please," Marilla said after a pause.

The waitress held out a menu snapping her gum as she waited but when Marilla did not take it, she chucked it down on the table saying "please yourself," and stalked off.

"What are the specials?" Marilla asked to her disappearing back.

"Sorry," Giuseppe said. "She's gone."

"What?"

"She must have missed that you were blind, when you didn't take the menu she left in a huff. Here let me, I'll tell you what's what."

"You could've said something," muttered Marilla grumpily. She had been looking forward to her outing, to exploring her newfound independence but it was not working out at all as she expected.

"Where would be the fun in that and what would you learn?" Giuseppe said maddeningly practical as always.  
"Humph," Marilla's shoulders sagged.

"Now let's see there's all the usual suspects," said Giuseppe ignoring her. "What sort of thing do you want?"

When the waitress returned, they ordered, and they waited until she left before they continued their conversation. "Tell me more about these so-called Samaritans. How can I avoid them next time?" Marilla pressed.

"I don't know that there's much you can do. You can dig your heels in, I guess. Don't forget your cane, you can brandish that if nothing else works," Giuseppe said with a laugh. "We should get you talking to some other blind folks, they might have some better advice."

Having dropped Marilla off Rachel drove to the library. She had a study session planned with Juliet and she was looking forward to talking about something different. Lately her life had been consumed with Marilla's struggles. Inwardly she berated herself for her selfishness, but really, she needed a break.

Juliet was already there her books strewn out across a table scribbling in a notebook. "Good morning," Rachel crept up on her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Rachel, so pleased you could make it," Juliet said loudly then clapped her hand over her mouth when the librarian looked sternly in their direction. "Sorry, so good to see you," said Juliet in an exaggerated whisper. "Come sit by me," she patted the chair next to her. "I need to talk to you about my essay."

Rachel set her bag on the floor and sat down. Juliet was a willowy woman with jet black curly hair and the most gorgeous brown eyes. Her little button mouth broke into the most amazing smile as she told Rachel what she was trying to do. Rachel tried to listen but found herself drifting off. Juliet glanced across at her and found she was staring out into the middle distance. "This is boring, let's go for a drive," she announced suddenly.

"A drive?" Rachel was jolted back into the present.

"Why not? I'm stuck and I need some fresh air. I suspect you do too." Rachel couldn't argue with that and she picked up her bag and followed Juliet out to her car. "We'll come back for yours later, Rachel. Jump in my car."

Funny, thought Rachel, she hadn't thought about it, but it had been a long while since anyone had driven her anywhere. She watched the streetscape flash by, it was rather nice really. Juliet sensed Rachel just needed to be quiet so she turned on the radio instead of speaking and turned the car towards the beach.

They sat in the car park looking out at the ocean. Juliet waited, listening to the sound of the waves lapping in and out in and out. Rachel remembered lazy long-ago days, "it's just," she began. "It's just oh I dunno. This life did not turn out the way I expected."

"Does anyone's?" Juliet asked gently.

Rachel glanced across with a smile, "I guess not." A pause, "but still. Marilla gets scared, I mean I get it. I would too, but I can't leave her for a minute. I was at the beck and call of my family for so many years; and I find myself in the same position now."

"Are you going to leave her?"

"No," Rachel shook her head. "I mean I can't leave her now, can I? What sort of a monster would that make me? I haven't made any vows as such, but I have to stick with her."

"You make it sound like a penance."

Rachel snorted, "I suppose so. I don't mean it that way. I couldn't be apart from her," she looked up at Juliet sharply. "Marilla is my love. But," she sighed deeply, "that's not to say I can stand to be at her side every second of the day."

A woman walked past, her black labrador chased a ball with a sort of frantic slobbery enthusiasm. They watched it emerge from the surf in a surge, drop the ball and shake the water from its coat, the droplets spraying out in an arc. The owner laughed and sprang back out of the way. Juliet spoke first, "It must be hard on you. She's not the only one suffering."

Few people had offered Rachel any comfort. Marilla was the one who needed the most support, but that didn't mean she liked being taken for granted. Juliet gently took hold of Rachel's hand and just held it. They sat like that for a long while watching the surf. Eventually Rachel noticed the time. "I suppose we better be getting back. I have to pick Marilla up her lunch will be over soon, and she'll be wondering where I am."

"Anytime you need some company, Rachel, I'll be here for you," Juliet said as the engine came to life.  
"Thank you for that my dear, it's appreciated."

Marilla and Giuseppe were waiting for her outside the cafe, even from a distance Rachel could see that Marilla was dancing with impatience. "You're late, where were you? You said you'd be here at 1.30 and now it's, it's ... what time is it Giuseppe?" Marilla accused her when she climbed out of the car.

Giuseppe smiled languidly, "it's only 1.35. It's no problem Miss Rachel."

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Rachel said annoyed at Marilla's attitude. "We got caught up in our work." It was only a small lie, she thought to herself. She had got caught up, if not in her work.

"You were so rude to keep us waiting," Marilla said in an annoyed tone as they drove home. "Poor Giuseppe had other things to do. I felt so embarrassed."

Fearing an outburst Rachel bit her tongue and let Marilla rave. She knew the rage was directed more at the situation than at her and feared the ramifications if she tried to defend herself. It made her happier than ever that she had left the library that afternoon rather than buckling down to her study. Such moments of spontaneity were few and far between these days.


	25. The Go Between

It was one thing to say she was going to get on with life, but it turned out to be quite a different thing to put into practice. Marilla felt wildly out of her depth and rather than turning to Rachel she found despite herself that she was isolating her. It wasn't that she blamed Rachel for being sighted but she felt that no one truly understood how very frustrating and lost she was and in true Marilla fashion she turned inward despite herself.

She had always prided herself on her independence. After her disappointments in love she had no choice but to square her shoulders and meet the world head on. Now she found the world passed her by and she had no idea what she was missing out on. Folks would talk about her over her head and she knew she was missing out of all matter of unspoken communication. Matthew and Rachel would move about the house picking up things, putting things away without spoken communication. She felt sure they were raising eyebrows or gesticulating as she would have done herself before; but which now went unseen and therefore unnoticed by her. She found it supremely frustrating not to be privy to this. She would have rather things went undone than to have them done behind her back and as a result she felt paranoid and annoyed at them for doing so. She hated this attitude, but it could not be disputed.

Giuseppe enrolled her in a support group. Folk who had lost their sight in all matter of ways sat around a large space at the Carmody Centre for the Blind. Marilla heard their voices echoing around the room. They had suffered macular degeneration, accidents like her, diabetes, cataracts and numerous other diseases of the eye. Few were as blind as she was, it was more common that they were now legally blind, rather than absolutely blind but it was comforting to know she was not alone. The leader introduced her to the group and feeling out of her comfort zone at first, she shyly told them about her accident and then it all came flooding out. The brutal way the news had been delivered at which they murmured their disgust. She told them how difficult she found it to adjust, how aggravating so called good Samaritans were, for she had encountered a few more by now and never knew how to avoid them; how she felt belittled and clumsy. Much to her embarrassment she broke down and wept when she described how she missed her old life.

Someone tapped their way over to her and pulled a chair close, "we understand Marilla. We've all been there, haven't we?" said a man's voice over murmurs of affirmation. "It's a shitty hand you've been dealt no doubt about it." Marilla fumbled in her handbag for a handkerchief to dab at her eyes and wipe her nose. "We're here for you to cry to, don't feel remotely silly for doing it. I don't think there's anyone here who isn't grieving for their lost life." A hand this time a woman's Marilla thought, reached out for hers and grabbed it gently, squeezing encouragingly.

Attention shifted as someone else started talking about something that annoyed them lately. Marilla was only half listening though she knew they deserved her attention, the good thing she reflected about their all being blind was that no one could tell. She stated paying them some mind when everyone started clapping then sharing their experiences. Evidently it was about the same thing that had happened to her the other day. Giuseppe had said it was common and apparently, he was right. One guy with a deep booming voice was saying he had practically wrestled some interloper off him, bringing his cane into play. Marilla didn't think she'd be brave enough to do that and pretty much resigned herself to be dragged across town when someone piped up that their dog was helpful in that situation.

Now someone was saying that helpful friends kept mentioning cures for their affliction. A series of groans could be heard around the room and everyone started speaking at once. Chakras, stones, crystals, Chinese medicine, cucumbers (on the eyes apparently), cow urine, magic mushrooms, even standing upside down had been suggested which drew a loud burst of laughter. "God they're pathetic, aren't they?" said the original deep voiced man who had introduced himself as Bert.

"They come from a place of concern though, I guess," said Marilla meditatively. "I suppose that's something."

"Hm, said Bert. "They're not much better than your annoying Samaritans if you ask me."

The session was ended shortly after and Marilla got to her feet, she was pleased when the group leader offered to guide her out to the front door. "How did you find it?" she asked. "You were a bit upset but I think you found yourself in the end. I thought you were very good with Bert; he can be a bit domineering at times."

"I hope I wasn't too rude," said Marilla.

"Not at all, he rather likes it when someone contradicts him. His voice sounds commanding doesn't it, he's really a big softy though. I thought you did well for your first time. I hope you'll be back."

Marilla nodded her thanks and sat on bench by the door. The weather was agreeable, and she was enjoying the late afternoon sunshine on her arms and the slight breeze that kept the temperature at a pleasant level.

Somehow her good mood was deflated when Rachel approached her panting slightly, "sorry, sorry, the traffic," she said by way of apology. Marilla got into the car and found herself thinking about the earlier discussion rather than listening to Rachel's tales of woe. The gulf between them had never seemed wider.

The drive home was silent. Out of the corner of her eye Rachel caught sight of Marilla's profile flashing in and out of sight as they drive under the streetlamps, but she said nothing.

"You look so sad," Juliet said compassionately one afternoon when they had cast their books aside.

"What? No I'm I'm..." Rachel tried to say she was fine, but the lie got stuck in her throat.

"Tell me," Juliet said simply.

Rachel glanced across at her. "You don't want to know. I don't want to burden you with it."

"Just tell me," Juliet repeated.

Rachel couldn't bear it, she was miserable. Juliet's simple command brought all her emotions to the fore. Once she started talking, she found she couldn't stop. Occasionally Juliet shifted in her chair but otherwise she was still as she listened with rapt attention.

There was a pause after Rachel had finished her tale of woe, Juliet gathered her into her arms. Rachel melted, it had been so long. Marilla was so caught up in her situation that they hadn't made love or even really touched beyond the bare minimum for weeks. Sensing no resistance Juliet cradled Rachel's face in her hands and kissed her full on the lips. Rachel was shocked initially but honestly her whole being was craving something like it and without thinking she kissed Juliet back. When Juliet pulled away Rachel followed her capturing her lips herself and relishing the taste of her sweet soft lips.

Even as she was relaxing into the kiss her brain was screaming. "No no," she pulled apart rubbing her lips. "No this is wrong. I can't, I just can't."

"I'm sorry, obviously I over stepped," Juliet said disappointed. She liked Rachel and thought they might be good together; she'd never ignore this gorgeous, voluptuous woman the way her awful girlfriend seemed to.

"It's not your fault, it's mine. I'll go," Rachel turned and stumbled away throwing her arm behind her back to say stay back when Juliet sounded like she was following.

Juliet watched her go remorsefully. Perhaps if she had waited, but she had been dying to kiss her since the first moment they met.

Rachel climbed into her car and drove towards town parking by the side of the road when tears obscured her vision.

"You're late again," said Marilla curtly when Rachel picked her up. Naturally, she did not see Rachel's tear stained cheeks or reddened eyes. All she knew was that the breeze was chilly, and Rachel had kept her waiting yet again.

"Sorry," said Rachel remorsefully. "Shan't happen again, I promise."

"It's cold out there," continued Marilla. "I think you do it on purpose. To mock me. You were probably with that Juliet again. How's the study going?" she asked sarcastically.

"Fine," said Rachel curtly.

"Fine," replied Marilla. "Humph." There being nothing else to say Rachel turned the radio on and they drove home in silence.

"Sometimes," said Rachel quietly before they got out of the car, "you remind me of Thomas."

"What? I'm nothing like him."

"Not physically of course, but he did more than assault me, there was the psychological abuse also. You saying I keep you waiting when I'm barely five minutes late for instance."

"For goodness sake Rachel, it's hardly that bad."

"Who are you to decide?" Rachel spat at her. "You made me feel the same way, you took me back there."

"If you want to lose her just go ahead, Mar you're doing a fine job of it," said Matthew a few nights later.

"Don't be ridiculous Matthew of course I don't, but don't you see, don't you understand? my life has been turned upside down."

"I get it, but so has hers and you're being a complete bitch about it."

"A bitch," the coffee sloshed onto the table when Marilla slammed her cup down scalding her hands. "A bitch is it! No one understands, no one cares about what it's like for me."

"For goodness sake Mar, everyone gets it. Everyone's bending over backwards to make your life easier and a little recognition would not go astray."

"Recognition, just what am I supposed to do, how am I supposed to acknowledge everything she does all the time, I ..." Marilla trailed off thinking if Rachel helped her so often she couldn't number all the moments then perhaps there were a few but she was worked up now and refused to acknowledge it.

"No one's saying you have to do it endlessly," Matthew continued, "but now and again wouldn't hurt. The way you carry on you make her feel guilty for being sighted. It's not her fault you're blind you know."

"Don't be ridiculous, Matthew, I never implied any such thing."

"Sometimes it seems so, and your ire is not even directed towards me. God only knows how Rachel feels."

Marilla sat and thought defensively about his words.

"Oh," exclaimed Matthew one morning as he read the newspaper over breakfast. "Old Bert Sloane has died."

"Poor man, he suffered for years," remarked Rachel. "Do they say when the funeral will be?"

"Tuesday next," read Matthew.

As Matthew helped Marilla into the car for the drive to the church Rachel remarked, "I do like a funeral. You get a good party and you don't have to take a present." Marilla rolled her eyes while Matthew laughed, "shh Rachel, that's a terrible thing to say."

Rachel settled in the back seat and smiled at him. "I know, it's true though. Don't say you've never thought it."

"Well now, maybe so. Still I wouldn't go repeating it outside this car."

"Hush now Matthew, of course I won't."

Matthew glanced across at Marilla, "all set Mar?"

"Yes, what are we waiting for?" she said irritably.

The church was packed, Bert had been a well-liked member of the community and everyone came to pay their respects.

Marilla had never liked crowds all that much and felt more uncomfortable than even now that she could only hear and feel her neighbours rather than see them. She had been unable to really pay attention to the service because their coughs, throat clearing, farts; Bert's weeping grandchildren and all the other movements a large crowd made echoed in the wide space. She rather felt she was being assaulted on all sides. Ordinarily Marilla would have sought comfort from Rachel, but these days Rachel annoyed her, and Matthew seemed to be taking her side.

Matthew led her into the crowded church hall and found a chair for her to sit on though she did not particularly need it. She hated the way they treated her as though she were a perpetual invalid. Once Matthew had her settled, he told her he'd go off to find her some refreshments. She got to her feet as soon as he left and stood there feeling the press of strangers around her. Rachel was some distance away, her booming laugh bouncing around the hall. Marilla felt surrounded yet lonelier than ever.

Someone, Matilda Boulter perhaps? though Marilla couldn't be sure yelled, "hello" in her ear. Marilla turned toward the voice and greeted her. Matilda did not announce herself but yelled again, "lovely service. I saw you standing here alone. Do you need a seat?"

"No, I'm fine thanks. Matthew is just bringing me a drink."

"Ah okay. I see Rachel is in fine form," the woman yelled again, did she think Marilla was deaf too?

"Yes, she loves a big crowd like this," Marilla replied in a normal voice hoping it would rub off.

"I always liked old Bert Sloan, didn't you? Such a lively fellow," boomed Matilda right Marilla's left ear. Honestly, it was getting painful now.

"Yes, he was a lovely chap," agreed Marilla.

"I'll never forget the time…" honestly was Matilda cupping her hand around Marilla's ear for added volume now? Marilla backed away and bumped into the person behind her. Hot tea splashed down her skirt and evidently the legs of the poor person holding the cup as well judging by their exclamation of surprise. Matilda sprang to help them both. When Matthew arrived balancing plates and a drink for Marilla, he was stunned to find her sitting on the verge of tears in her wet skirt surrounded by debris and a concerned crowd. "what happened here now?" he said crouching down. He turned to someone behind him and asked them to fetch Rachel.

"What have you gone and done now?" asked Rachel in exasperation. She had been in the middle of a stimulating conversation with Mark Andrews and was annoyed at the interruption.

They made their apologies and took Marilla home but Marilla did not follow them inside, instead she sat on the porch swing when they went through the front door.

"Take her a drink," suggested Matthew. "I'll bring out some snacks." He held the door open for Rachel. She sat down next to Marilla and offered her a glass of wine. Rachel placed it in her hands and lit a cigarette? "Want one?" she asked around it.

"Yes please," said Marilla who waited for Rachel to light it for her, not quite trusting herself with open flame.

They sat in companionable silence for a while then Rachel started describing the scene; lightning bugs were flitting around and little white moth wings caught the light all of which Marilla missed until out of the blue she started giggling.

"What is it?"

"Don't have to take presents," sniggered Marilla. "You are awful."

"You didn't seem to think much of it at the time."

"No, well I was annoyed, but it is funny. Only you Rachel, only you." She leaned against Rachel's comfortable bulk.

"I've missed this," said Rachel quietly.

"It has been strained of late hasn't it. Am I being that pathetic. I am, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as me."

"You two sound very Canadian," laughed Matthew as he delivered a platter of snacks and then left them to it, determining that they needed a good talk.

"Marilla, I never thought I'd stoop to this."

"No, you gave me the kick I needed. I was wallowing. I hate wallowing. I've never been one to do that. I prided myself on never doing that. This has knocked me though, I admit it. Never quite faced anything like it. I hate it. But it's onwards and upwards. Can I trust you?"

"To do what?"

"To tell me if I'm getting pathetic again."

"I'm missing you, love," said Rachel.

"Missing me? I'm right here."

"But you aren't, not really. I mean yes, we're still inhabiting the same house. But I feel I'm losing you, Marilla and it's the last thing I want."

"Mm," Marilla felt the same way.

"I have a confession to make. It's making me sick holding it in," said Rachel all of a sudden.

"Oh?"

"So um, Juliet." Marilla waited intrigued where this was going. "Juliet kissed me the other day and um I, um I um kissed her back. But Marilla although initially it felt wonderful, I felt just terrible a moment later. I mean yes, I can't say I didn't enjoy the intimacy but then when my head registered it wasn't you it felt all wrong. I had to get away, to get out of there." She was crying now, and Marilla sat opposite her impassively. What was one supposed to do when one's lover admitted infidelity? "I promise I'll never do anything like it again. I love you Marilla. I don't know what came over me." She glanced over to the stony-faced Marilla. "Don't be like that my love, it was just the one kiss."

"Well there was that time you know," Marilla replied slowly.

"When? What are you on about?"

"On Lesbos, on the Agape sofa."

"Agape? What are you talking about, you were there too?" Rachel said in confusion.

Marilla thought back to the conversation she'd had with Laura at the time, so it was true Rachel was unaware of her absence. "I wasn't, I was sharing a wine with Laura. You were being um well ... cared for, as I recall," she said slowly.

"No, you were there, I distinctly remember…" Rachel trailed off because of course she had been oblivious. "I mean you were the one who suggested it," she added defensively.

"I know, more fool me," Marilla retorted. "Be careful what you wish for. I remember I kept glancing over to you to see if you noticed, but you never did," Marilla said stonily.

"In my defence," Rachel said eventually. "It is hard to take much notice when one is overcome."

"Hmm," said Marilla as she drank down the last of her wine. "Well I'm off to bed." In the safety of her much beloved own home her cane was not required, and she confidently made her way up the stairs. Looking at her Rachel thought, you'd never know she was blind.

Rachel sighed heavily, it had all being going so well for a moment there. She hoped their rift was not insurmountable.


	26. Flight

"Ah ha, yep. Sounds great. I'll get Marilla to call you back. No that's great. Looking forward it. Great, yeah, bye." Matthew replaced the receiver in its cradle and jotted down a few notes. He knew his spelling was wrong but couldn't figure out what it should be. He hoped Rachel would understand.

Just as he was heading out to bring the stock in the ladies arrived home from their day out, Marilla from her group session and Rachel from study. "You had a phone call, Marilla." Matthew told her as he went out to check on the stock. "I took a message, just in case."

"Let me see," Rachel held her hand out. "Gius seppe called? Who on earth is that?"

Marilla started to laugh, "how on earth have you spelt it Matthew?" she called after him.

"He's written J.U.I.C.E. S.E.P.P.Y. Marilla. Now I ask you who is that?"

Marilla could barely speak for laughter. "That's Giuseppe of course, my Giuseppe. Juice Seppy I have to sit down." Still laughing she felt her way to the kitchen table and sat down holding her stomach. "Oh, I haven't laughed like that for ages," she puffed wiping the tears from her eyes as a stray giggle kept bursting forth.

"Here's some tea," Rachel said placing it down in front of her. Rachel was pleased to see Marilla laughing.

Rachel sat down opposite her and sipped. She looked across at Marilla wondering what would happen to the two of them. She loved her with all her heart but living with Marilla right now was not easy. Her struggles were momentous, and she was fighting back against her affliction as hard as she could and Rachel got it, she really did. She couldn't imagine how difficult it must be but, in her struggle, she was isolating the very people who could help her and Rachel who had gone unloved for so very long did not think she could bear it much more.

"I should ring him back," said Marilla interrupting Rachel's musings.

"Who?"

"Giuseppe of course. Will you dial the phone for me?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled, Marilla rarely acknowledged it even now but she did need her, for all manner of tiny tasks.

"Giuseppe, it's Marilla. Yes, yes looking forward to it. No there's no need to bring anything." A pause. "Oh well, I suppose you can bring a bottle of wine if you feel you must. Um oh around 7.00 I suppose. Wonderful, see you then."

"That's settled then," she said as she attempted to place the receiver back in its cradle several times. Rachel got to her feet and took it out of her hands and did it for her. Marilla was annoyed, "you should have left it to me. I nearly had it."

Rachel did not deign to answer and instead walked up to the bathroom.

* * * *

"Welcome, welcome how good of you to come," Marilla was all smiles for Giuseppe and his partner Stan despite snapping at Rachel two minutes earlier. Rachel followed her out more slowly. "Come in, you know Rachel of course." Giuseppe took Rachel's hand and kissed it then handed over a large bunch of flowers. Tears came to Rachel's eyes and she turned away hoping he had not noticed. It had been a long time since anyone had given her flowers. A note nestled within the stems. Using the excuse that she had to find a vase she sat down to read the note, the hubbub of chatter in the background. Dear Rachel, these are just for you because we know their colour will be lost on you-know-who. I do not say this to be unkind but reading between the lines I suspect you are going through a rough patch at present. Hold the course, we will get her through this. Best regards Giuseppe.

The others spilled chattering into the kitchen and Rachel looked up at Giuseppe with tears of gratitude. It meant a great deal to her to have him acknowledge her struggles. Their eyes met momentarily then she rose to put some water in the vase. "Where are you Rachel?" Marilla called. "Giuseppe and Stan bought some wine."

"What a cosy kitchen," Stan remarked.

"It's a bit messy," said Rachel apologetically.

"Makes it feel more homely," said Stan comfortingly. Rachel smiled. Honestly, she had almost forgotten how to be easy with other people. After a lifetime of treading on eggshells with Thomas and now Marilla, Rachel felt she was always on tenterhooks. It was just nice to be relaxed; that Stan was a handsome young man didn't hurt either.

They had a pleasant afternoon chatting, laughing over funny stories and enjoying each other's company but as soon as they left Marilla's shutters came back down and she frostily walked out of the kitchen.

That night Rachel tried to talk to her. "Marilla," she started after dinner. "We need to talk."

"What about?" said Marilla coldly.

"This isn't working. I know," she added when she saw Marilla take a deep breath. "I know it's not easy for you either, I understand. But I feel like I can never do anything right, that you're unhappy with me all the time. I'm miserable."

"Well it isn't much fun for me either you know."

"I do know, but..."

"But what," Marilla snapped.

"Nothing, it's fine," Rachel gave up. Marilla was not in the mood to listen to her, to acknowledge that it was not only her but Rachel too who was suffering.

She crept downstairs first thing in the morning and found Matthew up and about. He poured her a cup of coffee and they sat down at the kitchen table together.

Matthew spoke first, "I know it's hard on you. She loves you so much, but she's never been good at seeing," he shot her a wry grin at the use of that word. "At seeing anyone else's perspective. It won't be easy for her, specially now but you do need some freedom, or she'll lose you altogether. Have you um, tried talking to her?"

"I have, I tried again last night, she just got on her high horse. She wants to be the victim and can't perceive that it's difficult for me too," Rachel looked at Matthew over the rim of her cup. "I can't go on much longer like this Matthew. Not after Thomas. I lived in fear for too long." Matthew placed his weathered hand over hers. "Just a little longer, please. She needs you, deep down there's love there still."

"It's pretty well submerged and I don't know if I can wait for it to resurface," replied Rachel as she drank the dregs of her coffee.

* * * *

As usual Rachel dropped Marilla off on the corner in town and drove off to the library to study. Despite her abortive sessions with Juliet she still enjoyed the change of scenery and it made sense to go there after bringing Marilla to town. She set up her textbooks and notes, she had a paper due. Her attention was diverted a couple of hours later by the sound of a couple giggling in a nearby cubicle. The desks were designed for singles but these two were crammed in, she on his knee and it was obvious not much study was being attempted. After a while Rachel gave up and instead of attempting to ignore them thought of her own situation. Once upon a time she and Marilla might have been this couple, but now. Well it had been a long time since Marilla had paid her any attention, had kissed or whispered sweet nothings in her ear. It came to her in a rush, her situation was untenable.

"Mum!"

Rachel stood at Lucy's door hair bedraggled, cardigan falling from her shoulders opening crying.

"Mum? What is it? What's the matter?"

Rachel crossed the threshold and practically fell into Lucy's arms causing her to stagger. "come in, come in," Lucy looked past her mother expecting to see Marilla, but she was alone.

"Mum, where's Marilla?" Rachel had driven to Lucy in a state and now was beyond speech; she shook her head. "Mum, where is she? Is she alright?" Lucy led Rachel into her small kitchen and made her sit down. "I'm just going to ring Matthew." The phone rang for a long time until eventually Matthew picked up, "Green Gables," he said panting. "Sorry I was out in the barn. Doesn't seem to be anyone else home."

"Dad it's me, Lucy. I have Mum here. She's okay, I guess. She seems pretty upset. No, I don't know. I just thought you oughta to know. Oh, I'll ask her."

"Mum where is Marilla?" Lucy asked as she turned around. "Dad said you were supposed to bring her home." When Rachel made no answer, Lucy set the receiver down on the counter and knelt down by her knees. "Mum tell us, where's Marilla? I'll send Matthew to go pick her up."

"Blind Centre," whispered Rachel. "I, I…," she lapsed into sobs once again.

"Dad, Mum says she's still at the Centre. Right, yep I think that's for the best. Yeah, I'll be in touch. Bye, love you."

Lucy's plans for the evening looked like they were on hold. She found a box of tissues and plonked them down in front of her mother. Rachel took one to dab her eyes and heartily blew her nose. Lucy leaned back on the counter and watched for a moment before turning and setting the kettle on the two-ring stove. She did not speak to Rachel again, but left her to it. Rachel had been unhappy for a few weeks now, that much she knew but Lucy hadn't thought it was this bad. When the kettle sang out, she made a pot of tea. Usually she subsisted on teabags, but she knew her mother did not approve and anyway the ceremony of it gave her something to do. Rachel was slowing down now but apart from the odd hiccup was still silent. She watched while Lucy poured the tea and after a couple of sips of tea, she whispered, "I just couldn't … I had to get away, I …" she glanced up at Lucy. "it's been terrible. I've been having nightmares. I feel like I'm back there."

"There? You mean with him?"

Rachel nodded, "it's the constant nagging, no love just anger."

"Can Marilla really be like that?" Lucy was shocked, sure Marilla was a bit stern when she was younger, but she and Rachel always seemed so carefree together. Rachel brought out the laughter in Marilla and they just seemed so natural together.

"I wouldn't have thought so, before," Rachel took another sip of the scalding tea. "I mean I know she's angry at everything right now, but it's like she blames me." A solitary tear traced down her cheek.

Marilla sat on the bench waiting for Rachel to arrive. They had had a good session; some idiot laid their hands on another woman as a way of providing some sort of holy prayer of benediction. They hadn't even asked first but had just plonked their hands down and started talking in tongues; it was completely unnerving. Marilla had been simultaneously pleased and dismayed to know that her experiences weren't unique. The session had ended some time ago though and Marilla was still waiting for Rachel to turn up. The wind had turned quite chilly and she was getting cold. Impatiently she sat beginning to get a bit frustrated. "Marilla," was that Rachel? "Still waiting?" no it was the counsellor, Ruth.

"Yes, I don't know where my ride is, she's never this late."

"We're closing soon, but you're welcome to wait inside. You'll catch your death out here." She helped Marilla to her feet and guided her back into the reception area. "Do you want me to make a phone call for you, or you can make it yourself." Marilla hated asking for help, hated telling the woman she still struggled with dialling numbers on the rotary phone, but she nodded and asked her to anyway. Something had gone wrong and she needed to get home. She told Ruth the number then took the receiver from her when it was time. The phone rang and rang. She expected it would take a while, Matthew was most probably out in the barn, but even he should have got there eventually. When it was apparent there really was no one home she started panicking. "I'm sure everything's okay," Ruth soothed seeing Marilla's distress. "Come we'll just get you a hot drink and I'll wait with you."

"No, I don't want to keep you. I'll just wait outside."

"Don't be silly. I'm not going to leave you on your own in this weather and at this time of night. Come sit down and we'll wait for someone to come. If there's no answer at home, it's probably because they're on their way to pick you up."

Marilla sat down and wrung her hands nervously. "I just have to make a couple of phone calls," Ruth said. "You wait here. Are you warm enough?"

"What? Oh yes, I'm fine thank you. I hate to put you out."

"Not a problem at all. We'll have a good chat while we're waiting. We don't really get a chance in the group setting." They sat together making polite conversation but Marilla found it hard to keep track. She was worried about Rachel.

When Matthew eventually turned up she asked him feverishly, "where is she? Where's Rachel? What's going on? Did she have an accident? Is she alright?"

"Sh, wait I can't get a word in edgewise," Matthew interjected. "She's fine, she's with Lucy."

"Lucy? What's she doing with Lucy? Did she forget me?"

"No," said Matthew sadly. "She didn't forget you. She, um, she needs a break."

"A break?" Marilla was shocked. "A break? She just abandoned me. What's that all about then?"

"Lucy called me about an hour ago and I came to find you. That's all I know."

"Take me to Lucy's right away then."

"No, I don't think so."

"What? I demand you take me there." Matthew drove on despite her protestations. Eventually when they returned home, he turned to her and noticed how very angry she was. "Look Mar I know you're upset, but Rachel needed some respite. She um, hasn't been happy for a while now."

"She hasn't been happy? I'm the one who's blind!"

"Yep," said Matthew simply as he got out of the car.

"I just can't understand her," Marilla said at intervals that evening. "Call her for me Matthew,"

"Nope. We're leaving her alone for the time being."

"I'd ring her myself, but I find telephones difficult."

"Leave it Marilla."

"But, but…"

"Marilla," said Matthew in a warning tone. "She obviously needs some space, ya gotta let her have it."

Marilla muttered to herself, but without any means of communicating with Rachel at present had to let it go. She was livid though. Furious that she had been abandoned and angry that no one seemed to care.

Lucy woke up and found Rachel cleaning the kitchen. "It's alright Mum you don't have to you know."

"Goodness me Lucy this place is in a state. Crumbs everywhere, you'll get mice. I'll just clean the stove top and then," she cast her eyes around for the next task.

"Please Mum just relax. For once you can just have a break, can't you?"

"Yes, yes after I clean this and then I should probably do the bathroom. I briefly saw the state of that last night, hair everywhere," Rachel shuddered.

Lucy was annoyed, it's not as though she had any warning, her mother had just fetched up on her doorstep. If she had been expecting her, she would have cleaned in advance, but now her mother saw her in her natural state and was judging her for it. Still she knew stress cleaning when she saw it. Tip toeing around Rachel she attempted to avoid her as much as possible despite the small apartment.

Still by day three it was getting out of hand. Rachel was still cleaning. She must have scrubbed the bath five times. Having tutted over the state of Lucy's pantry she had been shopping so the cupboards and fridge were heaving with food Lucy doubted she'd have time to eat before it went off.

Lucy decided to call her father to see how things were going at Green Gables.

"She's miserable," he said flatly. "And she's drivin' me crazy."

"This place has never been cleaner," Lucy reported.

"Green Gables is a bit of a tip," admitted Matthew glancing at the dirty dishes languishing in the sink. "And Marilla does nothing but mope around. She's even stopped going out. I can barely persuade her to get out of bed. She was pretty cross at first, but now she just cries all the time.

"What shall we do Dad?"

Matthew scratched his head, "Can we get them back together? I dunno I think they might be better off, whaddaya think?"

"For my sanity I think we have to. Mum isn't going anywhere. Honestly, I don't want her staying here indefinitely, I want my life back," Lucy said bluntly.

They hatched a plan and promised to see each other the next day.

* * * *

For some reason getting out the door was always slower with Matthew in charge. He just hadn't the knack of getting her organised like Rachel had, as a result he dropped Marilla off slightly later than usual. "You've got fifteen minutes will that be enough?"

"Should be fine. Thank you, Matthew." Marilla had learnt that it didn't do good to snap at her helpers, but she was annoyed still with luck it wouldn't matter. Tap tap tap, she counted her steps and drew up at the curb to wait for the lights like everyone else. She'd almost stopped jumping when someone grabbed her by the elbow, but it was still disconcerting. "Here let me help you," said one unhelpful man turning her in the wrong direction.

"No thank you, I'm fine," Marilla said firmly.

When the man ignored her, she spoke up more loudly. "Please let go of me, I'll be fine." But he was propelling her across the road now, she'd felt the different surface under her feet. "Excuse me, can we stop?"

"We're in the middle of the road now, can't stop here. We're nearly there. Then you'll be as good as gold," he said.

Marilla knew she was running late but unwilling to be left stranded on the wrong side of the road was getting upset with this insistent man now. She stopped dead and flat out refused to move. "Come on, what are you doing? You can't stop here," he ordered.

"No, take me back please."

He started tugging at her and the car horns began to beep at this couple who were engaged in some strange sort of dance in the middle of the highway. Marilla completely overwhelmed with the cacophony of noise surrounding her became even more flustered. When the man continued to pull her in the wrong direction the words of her group friends came to mind and she used the only weapon to hand, namely her cane. She lashed out in the direction she thought her attacker, as she began to think of him, was. She struck home on the second try and heard the man shout out in pain. He dropped her there and then and fled, anxious to get away from this mad woman.

Unfortunately, this left Marilla stranded in the middle of the road. She turned around 180 degrees and then 180 again casting her cane around her in bewilderment. Which way now? The car horns continued to sound becoming more strident as she ineffectually turned in small circles. Eventually someone came to her aid. A woman had stopped her car and upon seeing what the matter was realised this blind pedestrian needed some assistance. Ignoring the traffic she got out of her car and weaved through the cars. She had a blind aunt and knew just how to approach Marilla. She held her hand up to make the drivers stop. "Hello," she called out gently. "Let me help you there."

Marilla barely heard her but jumped when she felt the woman's gentle touch on her elbow. "Here I have you. Let's get you off the road. Where are you headed?" Marilla took a big breath, the honking had finally subsided, but she knew now that she was in a terrible spot and later when she stopped to think about it realised how dangerous the situation was. "The Blind Centre," she said breathlessly to the woman.

"Right, of course. Here it's on this side of the street," she said calmly. "Just come with me."

Once they got to the curb Marilla gratefully stepped up and stood shakily on the sidewalk.

"Want to tell me how you ended up there?" the woman said.

"Some idiot assumed I needed to cross the road," Marilla explained.

"Will you be alright now? Will you be able to get there on your own, or would you like me to escort you?"

Marilla desperately wanted to prove her independence and get there under her own steam, but honestly after her ordeal doubted she could manage it. All she really wanted to do was collapse into Rachel's comforting arms, but there was no chance of that. "Could, could you help me please?" she said, hating herself but knowing she needed the assistance.

"Sure, no worries, my car is just over there. How about I drive you down? I should introduce myself, I'm Juliet."

"Thank you, Juliet. I really appreciate it."

"It's no bother. It's on my way. I'm going to the library to study."

"Well you came to my rescue, so thank you for that too."

"Well I did what anyone should do in that situation. I could see you were stranded and lost."

Marilla shivered, it had been a bad moment.

* * * *

Damn traffic, swore Rachel as she drove along the busy road. Must be a hold up, somewhere. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and flicked the radio on to wile away the time. Now the drivers were tooting their horns with even more gusto than before. What was happening? Once the car ahead finally started to move she glanced to her right and nearly caused another accident when she saw Marilla being escorted off the road by Juliet. What on earth? Having nearly driven into the back of the car in front she slammed on her brakes so hard the car behind nearly drove into her. He slammed on his brakes and then the horn in quick succession but Rachel was oblivious. She cut out of her lane and turned right. Parking the car and fumbling the lock, she raced down the road to find them.

"Good morning, Rachel," said Juliet coolly when Rachel reached them.

"Rachel?" said Marilla in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask you the same question," Rachel said breathlessly.

"Poor Marilla here had a bit of a nasty experience. I just rescued her," explained a bemused Juliet. "I thought you usually dropped her off?"

"Um that is to say, um," Rachel fumbled for an answer.

"Rachel and I have been taking a break," interrupted Marilla annoyed that they were talking about her as if she wasn't there. It had been her experience, why were they ignoring her?

"Sorry. Do you want to come with me then?" Rachel asked.

Marilla hesitated, Rachel had abandoned her after all and Juliet had been so kind. "Um," she clutched Juliet's arm for support, a gesture which did not go unnoticed by either of the two sighted women.

Rachel's heart plunged. "I'll take her the rest of the way. You must be in a hurry," she said to Juliet pointedly.

"No, I've got plenty of time," said Juliet carelessly.

"Marilla," said Rachel not wanting to beg.

Almost reluctantly Marilla let go of Juliet and turned towards Rachel. Rachel held her breath. If Marilla rejected her now then there would be no hope of reconciliation. Marilla reached out and Rachel took her hand. Marilla turned back towards Juliet saying, "thank you for all your help Juliet. You really saved me back there, if it weren't for you I could still be stuck there or worse."

"It was my pleasure," said Juliet almost sadly, not that she needed Marilla's sort of complication in her life right now.

Rachel watched her walk away momentarily then turned to Marilla, "shall we go. The car's just around the corner. How about a cup of coffee?"

Marilla nodded, "that would be nice."

Matthew looked up in surprise later that day when Rachel's distinctive lime green but mud spattered Volvo drove down the driveway. He heaved a sigh of relief when the two women made their way into the house together.

Rachel stirred the next morning and when she felt the movement Marilla reached out and laid her arm across Rachel's chest and snuggled into her side, "I missed this," she said quietly.

"Me too," said Rachel as she reached under Marilla's shoulders and hugged her close. The weak dawn light was just coming through the windows, "the sun is rising," she said.

"I know," replied Marilla drowsily.

"How?"

"The birds, I can hear their morning chorus, can't you? I've been listening to a cardinal and a robin for a few minutes now. They always sound so cheerful, don't they? They inform me when it's daybreak and for that I give thanks."

Rachel manoeuvred around onto her shoulder, "really? How clever you are, does anything else help you through the day?"

"Well the crickets tell me when it's dusk, they pipe up like clockwork."

"Goodness I barely hear them anymore."

"Well when you can't rely on the light, these things help."

"Of course, I just admire your ingenuity."

"You know," said Marilla changing the subject abruptly. "I was talking with Giuseppe the other day."

"Mm."

"He thinks the reason I'm so emotional is that I'm trying to get my life back, you know to how it was before."

Rachel nodded then realised she was required to say something, so she said, "mm," again.

"But," continued Marilla. "That's not possible. I have to adjust. My old life is over for good. I'm just getting frustrated when I strive to bring it back. I think that's why I've been such a beast. I know keep saying that's what I need to do, but I just find it so hard to let go."

"The change has been seismic," murmured Rachel as she stroked Marilla's hair. "No wonder you've been upset."

"But that doesn't give me leave to be so vile to you. I can't believe how awful I've been. You of all people, you my gorgeous love who has been by my side all this time. Oh, Rachel, how could I?" Rachel felt now was the time she was supposed to say it was alright, but it hadn't been. It had been so very awful she hadn't been able to stay. "I was beastly, wasn't I?" Marilla reiterated.

"I feel you want me to say it wasn't that bad and I can't. I was having nightmares again, Marilla. You really were making me miserable. But then I was wretched without you."

"I promise I'll try to behave better, to acknowledge all you do for me, not to take you for granted," Marilla was sobbing now. "I never, never want to lose you again my darling. I just, I just couldn't bear it."

"Sh, sh, I hope not. I plan to stay with you forever."

"For ever and ever?"

"Yes, but you..."

"I know I have to behave myself. I can't promise I won't ever lose my temper. But it's not you I'm angry with. It's the," Marilla waved her arm about, "situation. I've always tried to be the strong one, the protector and it's not easy for me to let go of that role and feel so vulnerable now."

Rachel thought about her words and replied, "when you helped me get away from Thomas you spent so much time building me up to be strong. You kept planting these seeds. Now it's time for those seeds to blossom. Let me look after you now," Rachel pulled her in closer. "I think we deserve a lazy day," she yawned. "I'm sleepy."

Marilla trailed a succession of light kisses down Rachel's chest and felt the nipple grow taut against her cheek, "you'll be too sleepy for this then."

"Well I might be persuaded," said Rachel lasciviously. "I just might." and she snuggled into the pillows to let Marilla continue her work.

"It's just as well," Marilla said later when they lay entwined together limpid after their exertions.

"Mm?" sighed Rachel on the verge of sleep.

"It's just as well lamb was not on the menu that night."

"Mm," Rachel roused enough to add, "you got off lightly, it was touch and go there for a moment." Marilla couldn't see her smile, but she heard the humour in her words.


	27. Cold Feet

Marilla's biggest regret was that she never got to see Anne's wedding.

A few days earlier Anne drove to her parents' graveside; she needed a little chat. "Mummy and Daddy, I'm getting married," she told their shared tombstone as she placed a bouquet of flowers at its foot. "Your little girl is in love. How can I describe Gilbert to you?" She told them all about their history, how she strove to escape the small town and the boys there but how after a few failed relationships had realised how much Gilbert completed her and how very much she loved him. As she spoke, she came to a realisation of how different she was to the little girl they once knew. She recognised how just how important Matthew and Marilla were, they knew her in ways her parents never could.

On morning of the wedding Diana was on hand to help Anne dress and together they set up a running commentary for Marilla as she sat on the easy chair in Anne's bedroom.

"Right I think that's it," declared Diana as she pulled back.

"Come here," said Marilla imperiously. "Let me see." She traced her hands over Anne's dress to gain some understanding of what she was missing. The dress sounded delightful, as Anneish a dress as ever could be with lace and flounces. "I'll go and join the congregation, now Anne. Good luck," Marilla said after she kissed her on the cheek.

"Are you ready?" Diana asked.

Anne nodded feeling somewhat queasy. Diana followed her down the stairs and took in the sight of Matthew looking up at Anne's descent. He looked as proud as any father ever could, tears misting his eyes.

A whirring panic settled in Anne's stomach when the momentous undertaking fell upon her like a massive weight. Matthew did not understand her hesitation or her look akin to a frightened rabbit in the clutches of a fox's jaws. "A'right Anne?" he asked as his girl went a slight shade of green.

Anne gave him a shallow smile. "Just give me a second," she said in a quavering voice. As she looked like she was about to faint, Matthew led her over to a chair.

"Everything okay Anne?" Diana whispered crouching down in front of her. "It just hit you right?"

Anne nodded.

"Here's some water," Matthew offered, twisting his hat in confusion. Women were not his forte at the best of times.

"Every bride feels it right about now," Diana said comfortingly.

"Marilla! I need Marilla. Where is she?" Anne demanded.

"You need to talk to her now?" Matthew asked in some confusion.

"Yes, yes," Anne replied feverishly. "Marilla."

Diana tip toed out and found Lucy loitering in the hallway.

"What's happening, why the delay?" she asked.

"Can you fetch Marilla. Anne needs her."

Lucy was confused, hadn't she escorted Marilla out to her seat a few moments ago. "Now? She's late enough as is."

"I doubt it'll happen at all if Anne can't to speak to her."

"Well okay then, I'll be back in a jiffy," Lucy trotted off, worried that the whole event might be in jeopardy.

Feeling very foolish and knowing poor Gilbert would be so upset Lucy made her way to where Marilla sat with Mrs Lynde. Rachel looked up at her and asked if everything was alright. "Not really, can I borrow Marilla. Anne needs her for a moment."

Rachel got to her feet and let Marilla through. Marilla took Lucy by the elbow and asked her to slow down, "I'll fall over if you go too fast. Just take it easy and tell me what the matter is?"

"I dunno Marilla. Diana just asked me to fetch you, I don't think it's cold feet as such, but Anne looks real pale. I feel so sorry for Gilbert, poor guy. He's just standing there looking like a fool."

"I'll talk sense into her. We must be nearly there."

"Yes, the veranda is just ahead." Lucy led her in through the front door. Anne was nowhere to be seen but Matthew pointed up, "she ran back upstairs," he explained. Anne was pacing in the bedroom, when she saw Marilla standing in the doorway she said "I don't know, I don't think… I just don't know if I can marry him."

"Hush now, hush now child. I may be blind Anne but even I can see how much you love this boy. How do you think you'll feel tomorrow if you don't go through with it?"

"But it's such a commitment, I don't think I can."

"I may never have committed on paper to anyone, Anne, but even I understand the depth of true love," Marilla said wisely.

"But I can't go now," wailed Anne. "it's too humiliating, Marilla I've kept everyone, oh God I've kept Gil waiting too long. I love him so much, and now he'll hate me for keeping him waiting."

Marilla's first reaction was to exclaim fiddlesticks but understood that Anne needed a light touch at this point. The exclamations could come later if necessary. "Now, now, it's not nearly as bad as you think. Everyone knows young brides can get the jitters. The worst thing you can do is bail now; you'd hate yourself for that. Come, dry your face. Diana can apply more makeup and then we'll take you downstairs. C'mon Anne," Marilla commanded when there was no movement.

Obediently Anne did as she asked. Diana was very gentle and made the best of a bad job, hiding the obvious tear marks though there was no covering her red eyes. After a few minutes she examined Anne's face carefully and proclaimed, "I think we're ready now Miss Cuthbert."

"Right I think we've tortured Gilbert for long enough, don't you?" said Marilla in a slightly teasing tone.

Together they made their way to the kitchen and then Matthew took Anne's arm and Marilla took Diana's and the four of them went out into the sunshine together. Anne and Matthew waited until Marilla took her seat next to Rachel muttering, "nearly lost her there, but I think she'll be okay now." Rachel took her hand and squeezed sympathetically saying, "if you cry, you'll set me off too. I always cry at weddings."

Gilbert whispered to Anne as she stood in front of him, "you had me worried for a bit there, darling." Anne gave him a wan smile, but the vows went off well enough. Afterwards Anne clasped him to her and when they kissed the congregation let out a cheer and clapped. "Is it done?" asked Marilla.

"Yes, they've done it, they're married," replied Rachel. Marilla relaxed next to her, she really had been quite anxious, "thank goodness," she said with a sigh.

"Surely it was a foregone conclusion?"

"She just had a little case of the collywobbles, I talked her down," whispered Marilla.

Not for the first time and certainly not the last Rachel realised she needed to do more than nod so she murmured words of encouragement.

When Anne stood at the head of the aisle, she could see the faces of their friends and neighbours turned towards her in friendly benefaction. All but one, the one face she needed the most. Marilla had not turned; did not know it was expected, did not know she was there. It was then really that the devastation the tree branch had wrought truly occurred to Anne. She'd known of course that Marilla was blind but somehow it was this little moment when reality hit.

Later they had a little chat about it upstairs. "I knew you couldn't see, I mean, I oh I sound so stupid of course I knew but just then when everyone turned and you you didn't, Oh Marilla," wailed Anne.

"Shh shh dear child. I've decided it's not the end of the world. I can live like this; you need to move on darling. Go live your best life with your wonderful new husband, I'll be just fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes go. You have a houseful to see to. I'll just be a minute."

As Anne descended everyone roared their approval, but it was Gilbert she looked for. The look in his eyes was all the balm she needed.

Rachel saw Anne descend but there was no sign of Marilla so while everyone's attention was turned, she ran up to find her. The cacophony disappeared behind her as she closed the door. Marilla's mascara had run, and her face was all blotchy from tears, "I know I should be happy for her, and I am mostly," she said quietly into Rachel's shoulder.

"I know. You want her to have the best life, but it hurts when they go. Or I suppose it does."

"You were never so close to your lot," said Marilla snivelling.

Rachel fetched her a handkerchief and handed it over saying, "not as close as you two are, no. Only Lucy and of course she's still single."

* * * 

Marilla was fumbling over her dinner but Rachel and Matthew knew better than to help her. They raised their eyebrows at each other but otherwise were silent. They had spent a few days after their reconciliation working out boundaries. Where Marilla needed help and what frustrated her.

Some things were obvious, "I don't suppose you'd let me drive?" said Marilla with a large grin.

"No," replied Rachel firmly. But other things were less apparent, "so you find my helping you dress annoying?" Rachel said at one point, a little hurt that her work was unappreciated.

"I do. Suppose it's frustrating for you, but I will get there eventually. If I need help I'll ask for it."

"Okay, if you say so."

It did help and if things were slower at first, at least noses were not out of joint and their household was happier for it. For now it meant watching her slowly navigate her dinner and they turned their attention to their own plates, "I must say this salmon is delicious," said Rachel around a mouthful.

"Can you see Anne?" Marilla asked.

"Yes, she's sitting next to Gilbert looking like it's all a dream," replied Rachel.

"I daresay it's better than her childhood ones. She had such a way with her imagination," said Marilla fondly.

* * * 

Music blared across the marquee spilling out into the garden. Marilla sat tapping her toes to the beat. It was loud but the atmosphere was infectious. Still she was just about to disappear outside for a break when someone tapped her on the shoulder and yelled in her ear, "it's John. Care to dance?" She hesitated but an old song came on the juke box next, one that Marilla was very familiar with and without thinking it through she nodded enthusiastically and leapt to her feet.

There was a slight lip to the dance floor, nothing really half an inch no more and perfectly easy to navigate if you knew it were there. But John forgot to mention it to Marilla so the toe of her shoe caught it just so and she stumbled forward clumsily. John caught her by the arm just before she crashed to the ground. "Sorry sorry, my fault. I didn't even register it." Marilla heaved and shook against his chest for a moment, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Could she trust him to help her dance if he got this one small thing wrong? But the music beckoned and without thinking she imperceptibly swayed in his arms. As she grew in confidence, John took her arm and walked back a step giving her more freedom. The music flowed through her to her feet and she twisted back and forth then yelled at John, "try to keep up!"

Anne was chatting to some friends from college at the other end of the marquee when Barry Peters tapped her on the shoulder, "I thought you said your mother was blind now?"

"What? Yes, that's right," yelled Anne against the music.

"She looks pretty normal to me," said Barry pointing.

Anne looked across the marquee to the dance floor just in time to see Marilla being flung over John's shoulder.

The years stripped away, and as was if Marilla was young again boogie woogieing with the best of them. If she got momentarily lost, John was there with a quick guiding hand but for the most part she was in her element, dancing like there was no tomorrow.

Rachel too lost sight of her for a moment and found her on the dance floor looking like just about anyone else, except no one else seemed to be having as much fun. As they danced on the rest of the couples backed away so that after a short while they had the floor to themselves. Sweat dripped down her torso but still she danced, loving the feeling of absolute freedom; she felt light as air, uninhibited.

The song came to an end and Marilla gasped against John's chest. "Fun?" he asked.

"Yes," she panted and then someone stuck another song on, and with a whoop they were away again.

"I'll get you a drink," said John rubbing his back when the second song came to its conclusion. He led her over to Rachel who took her hand saying admiringly, "you were wonderful out there."

Marilla laughed and said, "was I? Did anyone notice?"

Rachel laughed back, "I think you might say so. Didn't you hear the clapping? All I'll say is I'm glad you decided to wear underwear today."

"Not really I was in my own little world. Rachel, it was wonderful. I forgot I was blind all I could hear was the music, all I could feel was the pounding of my heart and John's steadying hand."

"Marilla!" Anne skidded up to them. "My God you were incredible. I never knew you could dance like that."

"John and Marilla used to be quite a sensation back in the day, Anne," Rachel explained.

John appeared at that moment with a glass of punch, "here you'll be needing a cold drink I expect." He placed the cup into Marilla's outstretched hand and looked at his brand new daughter in law proudly, "what do you think of that then, Anne?"

Anne just shook her head in amazement, for once she was speechless.

* * *

"You know," said Rachel after they waved the married couple farewell and all the guests had left. By mutual agreement they decided to leave the cleaning up til the morning preferring instead to pick through the platters of leftovers for a rough dinner washed down with champagne. An exhausted Matthew had made his apologies and gone to bed.

"Mm," said Marilla sleepily from her side of the couch.

"The time I was happiest was when we were on Lesbos."

"Yes, that was lovely," said Marilla thinking back to that glorious vacation when it felt like nothing could go wrong.

"And I was thinking the other day that I'd like to go back."

"For another vacation d'you mean? Now that the wedding is over."

"Not exactly," said Rachel slowly. "I think I'd like to live there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is drawing to a close now and I'd like to thank all my Anne girls for their support. As with all writing this has been a collaborative effort and it is lovely to know there are a legion of good writers out there that I can bounce ideas off when I am stuck. They know who they are and I will thank them individually, but just know that they are out there.
> 
> I plan on backing away from Fanfic for a while as I have another writing project to work on. This has been a wonderful form of procrastination but now I do need to get on with it. I am in the middle of a collaborative project, Joy and Comfort with AnneWithAnEStory so I will keep up with that, but I won't be attempting anything as ambitious as this story for the rest of the year.
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing. I have really enjoyed my modern Marilla and Rachel and I'll be sorry to say good bye to them.
> 
> I hope you all stay well for the foreseeable future, much love oz diva.


	28. Rejoice in the Echoing Shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've so enjoyed sharing this story with you all. For a while I had a bittersweet ending in mind but I decided that was a tired trope and instead that my ladies deserved something better. Thank you to everyone who has read and returned to read the next chapter. It means a lot to me. Thanks for all the reviews, you have cajoled and carried me along. Writing can be a lonely journey, but it is helped by having like minded people to help you along the way. Think of me as I try to adjust my imaginings from a middle aged lesbian to an eight year old boy.
> 
> There will be one epilogue and then it's adieu to Marilla and Rachel.

"The only thing I worry about," said Marilla one night as they planned their getaway. "Is your studies. It's a shame to let it go now."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that," replied Rachel. "But the thing is I've been struggling with it anyway. So many of our group sessions revolve around our experiences and well, you know I have to keep that hidden. It's not easy to keep my story straight."

"Yes, won't do to let anyone know you were abused yourself."

"No. And I find it hard to hold my tongue when people question the behaviours of battered women. I know what it's like but I have to keep schtum. I know I can do it, Marilla. It's done wonders for my confidence, but when I weigh up a degree versus moving to Greece; well I know what I'd rather do."

"So long as you've made peace with it," said Marilla consolingly.

"I have. I'm happy to let it go. Anyway, I'm not getting any younger. I think I'd like to relax and enjoy life with you rather than being a slave to the books. I'm not thinking of it as giving it up, but rather as changing direction."

"Wonderful. On that note, shall we spend some time together now?" suggested Marilla with a soft grin.

"I think that is an excellent idea. I'm sick of packing anyway," replied Rachel reaching out for Marilla's hand.

In late May they were welcomed at their favourite Lesbos taverna Agape with open arms. Their old friend Laura greeted them at the door and despite the soft light she noticed that something had changed. She placed her hand over Marilla's, "what happened?"

"Ah yes," said Marilla with a rueful smile. "An accident, I'm as blind as a bat. All I have are my memories. Tell me nothing's changed."

"Well we have had a bit of a facelift since you were last here." Laura described the new decor as they sat down at a table and Marilla nodded, it sounded lovely. Rachel spied an old friend and touching Marilla on her shoulder left her in Laura's care. "How are you both?" Laura asked as she watched Rachel kiss the other women on both cheeks, European style.

"We're fine, good even," answered Marilla as she reached for her drink. When her fingers connected she drew it over to her and sipped daintily.

"What happened?" Laura asked gently.

"Tree branch fell on me in a storm," explained Marilla matter of factly. If Laura expressed too much sympathy she'd break down; going on to describe what she had been told about that night not that she remembered anything.

"My God!"

"I can't pretend it's been easy, Laura," Marilla said. "But I'm coping better now. Slowly coming to terms with it."

"So you thought it was time for a vacation?"

"This is no vacation," Marilla replied. "We're here to stay."

Laura took a sip, she was delighted and said so. Marilla could hear the smile in her old friend's voice.

Using her local knowledge Laura helped them find an apartment down a narrow cobblestoned street. It was small, just one bedroom tacked onto a kitchenette and small living room with a tiny bathroom; perfect for their requirements. On sunny afternoons they liked to sit out on their little balcony as Marilla listened to the radio or Rachel read the newspaper out loud; they both enjoyed keeping up with a smattering of world news. They became a familiar sight and sound around the little town. The short round woman leading the tall slim blind one tapping her cane to cast around for obstacles.

Marilla had even found her old radio show, The Young and The Irritable on the BBC World Service. It had been a few years since she followed the lives of Ridge and Geraldine and their extended friends and family and had given it up in disgust, but now she greeted it like an old friend. It was funny she mused, despite leaving it for so long it only took a couple of days before she caught up with the major plot lines. It was as preposterous as ever but she found herself getting drawn into the intrigue and it wiled away some time in the mid afternoon. After all what harm did it do?

Sofia Andrianakis and her granddaughter Zoey lived in the flat below. Together they helped Marilla and Rachel learn a few local phrases. The first day Marilla tried shopping on her own the old woman counted out her drachmas and sent her on her way. When Marilla returned a couple of hours later the old woman inspected her shopping bag and counted out the left over money. "Malakas," she muttered. Taking the shopping bag and Marilla's purse she strode off telling Zoey to take Marilla inside. "Ne Yiayia," the little girl called after her.

George Petrellis was having a nice day. The weather was sunny and business was good. He wandered around chatting with his usual customers, polishing the fruit, joining in the spruiking. It was fun to come up with new calls every once in a while; his daughter Katarina often had new ideas for puns to use and they brought a smile from the crowds. He had gained a bit of a reputation for it.

He looked down when someone poked him in the stomach. Diminutive Sofia said calmly, "ela. What's this?" gesturing at the produce. He was about to reply when she continued in a louder voice. "You can do better than this, you malaka, George. You son of a bitch, you whore lover. Skata na fas taking advantage of the blind woman now. You," she started hitting him in the stomach. She barely came up to his waist but like a good Greek boy he took his due punishment. She kept up her tirade battering him all the while. George turned and replaced all the produce adding more for good measure and replaced the money in the purse. "Good," she said when the last note was replaced. "Don't do it again or we women will catch the bus to the next town for our shopping. This is your last warning," she glared up with reproachful eyes.

He heaved a sigh of relief as she turned on her heel and strode away with the heavy shopping bag clutched in her arms. His fellow shop keepers crowded round in sympathy. "It wasn't even you was it?" said his neighbour. "I think it was Dimitri who served her."

"That's right," said a mustachioed man. 'He was so happy with the sale he closed shop for the afternoon."

"He owes you one now," they all laughed with claps on beleaguered George's back. "What's Effie going to say when you get home?"

"She'll murder me too," George said shaking his head with a sigh.

"You know," Laura said one evening when the lights were low and the music too. "I could do with a hand around the place. What do you think about helping out? Nothing too strenuous, just a bit of help with the hostessing and maybe the books."

"I used to be a book-keeper," sighed Marilla. "But I doubt I'd be able to do it now. I think eyesight is required."

"No," replied Laura sadly. "I suspect that's not your forte now. How about being a greeter. Especially the new customers. You have such a gentle demeanour. You wouldn't scare folks off."

"I'll give it a go," said Marilla hiding her nervousness.

As it turned out Laura was right, Marilla was perfect for the role. They installed a small bell to alert her when peopled arrived and she had a sixth sense to determine if they needed an hand. She never forgot the warm welcome they received the first time they stood on the threshold and did her best to emulate it. She had an unerring knack of knowing where to send people too as well. Rachel or Laura would point out where certain groups were sitting, Marilla only had to be told once and she'd have them all mapped out in her head so she could send women to exactly the right spot.

Rachel helped with the book-keeping asking Marilla questions when she was stuck. It was only a couple of days a week, nothing too onerous but it helped structure their time and the small stipend Laura paid them didn't go astray either. Rachel even found her study useful after all. Sometimes she would find women weeping in stray corners and she would sit by them and tease their story out. All too often they too had escaped abusive relationships and had come to Lesbos seeing succour. "So I get to use my training after all," she explained to Marilla.

"That's marvellous."

"Yes, I feel useful you know, it wasn't all in vain."

"You said you wanted to give it up," Marilla said, worried that Rachel now regretted her decision.

"And I did, but still I'm glad I'm using it now and happy to help. These poor women need someone to talk to. I usually recommend they see someone when they go home, but at least I can start the process."

"You're wonderful. I'm sure you're a great help."

"Well I do my best," said Rachel thoughtfully.

"I picked up some mail this afternoon," said Rachel one afternoon when the cobblestones outside fairly shimmered in the heat. "Here's a parcel from Matthew." Rachel settled in a chair and drew a refreshing glass of water close before unwrapping it. She gasped, "it's beautiful. It's a painting of home, Marilla, with rolling hills and crimson leaves falling. A true PEI fall," her voice cracked slightly on the last word. She unfolded the letter that fluttered on her lap and read it out loud.

29 June 1976  
Green Gables

Dear Marilla and Rachel,

Saw this painting and thought it might remind you of home, Rachel. I'm told the artist is a deaf Frenchy. I thought it was quite good, anyway hope you like it.

Green Gables continues much as you would expect. Don't go specting me to describe it for you, you probably remember it at this time of year anyways, you lived here long enough, dear sister. With harvest looming I've hired a couple of men to help.

It's been a mite lonely since you two left. Didn't realise how much I'd miss you, but it's alright now cos Lucy has decided to move in with me. She arrived with all her luggage and random pieces of furniture last week and it's been a joy to have her around. I know this probably comes as a bit of a shock to you Rachel but we decided to keep it a secret in case we couldn't bear each other. As it turns out we are forming a closer bond than ever. She's inhabiting the upper level and me the lower so we have our own space same as always. But of course the kitchen is the spot we spend most of our time in. Lucy has brought her own touches and we have a fine old time together. She is busy with her friends of course, but she brings them home on occasion and I find myself most amused by their antics. She wants to host a party next month which I find myself looking forward to.

I must say I think of you on your beautiful island, which of course have only seen in photos and feel somewhat envious. Maybe I'll come and visit next year.

I wonder if you're still interested in the town gossip despite being so far away but you was always one for it Rachel, so if you like I'll try to keep my ears open so as to keep you up to date. I'll send the newspaper to you if you like, though I spect it'll feel very insignificant to you jet setters. I did hear one story of interest which you will see I included.

Rachel unfolded a scrap of paper and read out the headline, "Quebecois man Charged with Embezzlement".

That made Marilla sit up with interest, "go on," she said earnestly.

"Jean Pouse formally of PEI and Montreal was charged with embezzlement today authorities say. Although this charge pertains to a recent matter it is believed Pouse is a repeat offender. Goodness Marilla, fancy that. Think it's the same man, how many Jean Pouses can there be? There's a picture of him here. I must say if it is he's aged badly. He's terrible grey and lined now. A far cry from the handsome man you knew."

"Good," said Marilla flatly.

Rachel glanced up at her but Marilla's face was expressionless. She took a sip of water and unfolded the thin blue paper of an aerogram, "this one's from Anne."

"Lovely," said Marila setting back against the cushions. Anne always wrote the most marvellous letters.

Glen St Mary  
1 July 1976

Dearest Marilla and Rachel

It is wonderful as always to write to you and thrilling to think that my words have flown from here to a tiny spot in the middle of the Aegean. I have some news for you so I hope you are sitting down. I can picture you sitting in a small sitting room or on that balcony you told me about looking over your little town or maybe you're in some taverna listening to a band play in the distance with a glass of wine in front of you. Where ever you are I know you are happy and that fills my heart with glee.

Anyway sorry to digress, the real news I'm writing about is that I'm pregnant!

The doctor says I'm about 2 months gone. I admit I have been feeling rather nauseous and exhausted, Rachel sighed and nodded but the worst should be behind me soon, hopefully anyway. It's not too bad, so don't worry.

We were thinking of coming to visit you before the baby is born, how would that be? I suggested it to Gil the other day and he's enthusiastic. I so want to share part of this pregnancy with you, Marilla. I'd love to have your warm hands on my burgeoning stomach, to have you feel my baby. Goodness when I write it out like that it seems so real. My Baby. Makes me feel very grown up all of a sudden. Fancy me being a mother? I can't believe it myself though this swelling belly of mine is a very real daily reminder. We have been bandying name ideas around Marilla. Maybe Sharon for a girl or Brian for a boy? It's just so exciting to imagine it. I roll the word 'mother' around in my mouth, it sounds awfully grownup. Now of course I worry, I am responsible for another being. What do I know about parenthood? I'm reading all sorts of books and they sound so solemn. I don't think I want to be too much of a disciplinarian Marilla. I want to be the fun sort of mother who leads my baby on adventures.

"That's what I'd imagine, Marilla," remarked Rachel fondly.

"Yes, but hold the hash brownies please," responded Marilla with a smile.

"Well a grandmother; how wonderful for you," Rachel said reaching out to pat Marilla on the hand.

"Not something I saw coming a couple of decades ago."

"No indeed. We'll have to fire up the knitting needles now."

"Oh yes, what a lovely idea. Have you seen any yarn for sale here?"

"I haven't looked, but I'm sure Laura or Sophy will have some ideas," replied Rachel thoughtfully.

Initially Marilla had feared she'd knitted her last stitch, but as time went on she came to the realisation that knitting was mostly done by feel and counting, things she could still manage. There hadn't been much need for it lately, but now with a baby on the way she felt a renewed vigour. Now the tones of the Young and the Irritable were accompanied by the click of the knitting needles.

"What time of day do you call this?" Laura laughed at the sight of the two women wrapped around each other. "Get up sleepy heads. We're off on adventure."

"Wha? Wha are you doing here?" Rachel said grumpily.

"Get up, I want to take you somewhere. You'll love it. Get dressed, I'll wait downstairs."

When they finally joined her sleepy eyed and crumpled Laura remarked, "tell me do you usually eschew clothes in bed?"

"Well I mean that is to say," they were embarrassed now.

"No, it's fine. I mean I know only too well the silky feeling of skin on skin. It's just you present such a dignified face to the world. I don't think I'll view you in the same way again."

The ladies burst out laughing, "us dignified?"

"Anyway, come along I don't want to be late."

They both took one of Marilla's arms and walked down the lane to a larger street. Laura authoritively lead them along at a brisk pace until with a flourish she turned a corner and the whole harbour lay before them. They had been here before of course but never in the pre dawn and it was bustling in a new manner.

"The fishermen are selling their catch," explained Laura.

"I can tell," replied Marilla. She did not need the sight of the fishing boats pulled up on the harbour and racks of fish to know. She could hear as gulls called over head and squabbled over stray offcuts. The villagers cried out their wares the higher pitched women strident over the lower bass voices of their men. The strong smell of the sea and drying fish pervaded all. Having taken in the view, Laura led them down to the market and they took their time picking out the best catches of the day. Some for the taverna and some for their own use that night. Laura haggled over the price bantering earnestly back and forth in a mix of Greek and English. Finally their bags heavy with fresh fish they made their way back home for breakfast.

They liked to wander along windswept beaches. Rachel telling the scenery to Marilla, though being an island girl she could picture it easily enough. It was delicious to walk in the shallows letting the gentle waves lap over your toes. Marilla stubbed her toe at times and bent down to pick up the offending rock or shell, their sea polished sides telling their own histories.

The sand still held the residual heat from the day and warmed their bare feet when they shucked off their sandals. Rachel turned to help Marilla with her buttons and then with a quick movement both women disrobed dropping their clothes onto their towels. Arm in arm they strolled towards the water silhouetted by the setting sun as the huge red orb sank lower and lower. "It's a stunning sunset tonight," said Rachel. "It's as though the sky has caught fire from the ground up there's every colour of the rainbow cooling from red orange to violet and blue at the zenith and the crimson rays are reflected across the whole ocean. It's really beautiful." She tore her eyes from the celestial spectacle and noticed that Marilla's bare skin glowed faintly pink in the sun's last rays.

"Sounds lovely," said Marilla with a tinge of sorrow that she was missing out on it.

The water was deliciously mild. They splashed through the gentle waves barely flinching. Marilla clutched onto Rachel for balance and they paused for a moment before continuing their journey. Rachel squealed first when the water hit her sex and Marilla smiled then it was Rachel's turn a few steps later when it reached Marilla's. When the water reached Marilla's hips she let go of Rachel's arm and slid down into the water feeling its dark depths swirl over her breasts and back and head. She swam a couple of breaststrokes splashing Rachel as she kicked. Rachel joined her in the water and they embraced rolling around in the sea laughing and kissing through the salty water. Later they floated on their backs holding hands. "I hear this is what otters do," said Rachel.

"Sh," said Marilla urgently. "What's that?" A sucking noise nearby alerted her and Rachel looked across the water in sudden panic, her heart pounding. A fin broke the water and she relaxed when she noted its gentle rounded shape. An extra fin joined the first, "dolphins," said Rachel and they listened to the sound of the mammals as they sucked in a breath through their blowholes and sunk back under the water.

"I'm gonna come back as a dolphin you know," remarked Marilla.

"So you said."

"I did?"

"On the yacht last time."

"Well I am," she asserted.

"Then I'll always know where you are, I'll visit you on hot nights my love and eventually I'll join you."

"And we'll swim here in the Aegean for ever."

"We will."

The sun slipped past the horizon leaving the sky a dark indigo. In the distance across the bay that town's lights spread sparkling out across the water but too far away to make a difference leaving them swimming in the inky black water, Marilla's lack of sight no impediment in the dark night.

"The sun has set, want to go in?"

"Soon," said Marilla cradled in the warm water. "Soon."

\- Fin -


	29. Epilogue

As soon as the featureless white airport doors slid open a small person shot through like a projectile. "Careful," yelled Rachel interceding and catching the culprit before he bowled his unwitting grandmother over.

"Remember she can't see you," she chided gently before kissing Walter on the cheek. "Here Marilla I think this one is yours," she said handing him over. Marilla took the wriggly boy into her arms and squeezed tight, "oof you've grown. Walter. You're too heavy for me now."

"Hello hello," greeted a laughing Gilbert taking the dark haired boy out of her arms. Walter lunged towards his beloved grandmother again, but Gilbert took a step back to avoid a collision. "Steady boy, she's not going anywhere."

Anne brought up the rear pushing the suitcase laden trolley, long legged Joy rolling her eyes and shorter Jem grinning on either side. Rachel murmured instructions to Marilla and she turned to greet them, "welcome to Athens," she said with wide open arms and they embraced each other warmly until yet another person tapped her on the shoulder. Marilla broke off their hug and turned in surprise, there was a familiar aroma but no, he said he couldn't. "Matthew?" she said enquiringly hoping against hope.

"It's me," said Matthew and he bestowed a kiss upon her forehead.

"Matthew!" she snuggled into his broad chest breathing in the smell of cut hay which no amount of showering would ever dislodge. "You said you were too busy to come, wrong time of year you said."

"Wanted to put you off the scent," he said smiling fondly. "Think I'd ever forget my little sister?" he stroked her hair. "Course I had to come, check you were alright out here, make sure Rachel was treating you right," he winked in her direction and she smiled back.

At the taxi rank Walter insisted on riding with Marilla so he and Matthew clambered into the back seat and Rachel sat in the front. Rachel pointed out all the sights along the way and they found themselves all standing outside a small hotel in the centre of the city. Knowing the family would most likely be jet lagged and exhausted they had booked a hotel for the night but nothing could induce them to stay longer. Still they had a happy family dinner at a Plaka taverna as the back lit Acropolis towered over all. Walter was a bit fussy about the food. Marilla cajoled him into eating some white bait and fries but he baulked at the octopus. "I don't blame him," shuddered Matthew watching with horror as Marilla forked another tentacle into her mouth, "all the more for me then brother," she grinned as she chewed.

The journey by ferry back to Lesbos was joyful but long. Rachel and Marilla were just happy to be out of polluted Athens; only the promise of meeting family at the airport could induce them to return to the bustling metropolis. After a slightly fraught plane trip, where Gilbert and Anne found it difficult to keep the boys entertained; it was a relief to have them on the boat, though they still had to keep an eye on the rambunctious Walter. Still they were in holiday mode now and the family were in good spirits looking forward to seeing where the happy couple lived and to meeting all their new friends. "It's ridiculous we haven't been before," said Anne apologetically as she scanned the horizon.

"I know but it just hasn't been possible has it?"

"No, what with one thing and another."

"So many missed chances, darling," said Marilla. "Well at least you're here now. I'm so looking forward to showing you around."

"That's Lesbos, that's home," announced Rachel eventually when the small sparkly island eventually came into view. Anne grasped Marilla's arm, it looked just beautiful and she said so. "Yes it is isn't it. I can recall the first time I saw it," said Marilla quietly.

"I bet you wish you could see it again," Anne tenderly kissed her on the cheek.

"Fiddlesticks!" said Marilla. "Don't you go pitying me, Anne Blythe, I'm just fine. After all I have wonderful memories. I'm just so relieved I came here before my accident."

"Now this is the pensione we rented for you," Rachel said as the taxis pulled up at a small house. "I hope it's satisfactory." Not only was their apartment too small, it had been decided that it was probably better for each family to have some time apart. "We'll pick you up in a couple of hours and go exploring, but you might need some time to settle in.

As the sun sank they could be seen walking in twos or threes around the town square. Rachel nodded at a few friends and explained to them all what buildings were what, pointing out the city hall, the church and their favourite restaurants. Naturally Agape was not on the list. "Look there's the jail, maybe we should leave you there," Jem teased Joy. Joy stuck her tongue out at him let go of her father's arm and jogged up to Marilla. "Can I walk with you please Grandma?" she asked.

"Of course you can darling," said Marilla noting how much taller Joy was by the angle of her arm.

"Here you go, Joy," said Anne relinquishing her hold on Marilla. "Just make sure you let her know where the curb is and any other obstacles.

"It's so nice to have you here with us, Joy darling," Marilla said patting her hand. "I hope you have a wonderful time. We thought tomorrow we might have a picnic on the beach, the water here is much warmer than at home. Sometimes we see dolphins you know."

"Mm hm," said Joy disbelievingly.

They pulled some tables together for their large group and sat in the plaza surrounded by beautiful old buildings. Jem and Walter were fussing but the adults paid them no mind, busy with catching up on their news. Large platters of fish, meat, dips, bread, salad were brought out to them and they all helped themselves. Anne prepared a plate for Marilla while Gilbert made up a small one for Walter. "Ya mas" they clinked glasses after the wine was poured. The young family were tired after their travels and still a bit jet lagged so it was not a late night, Walter was already falling asleep in Gilbert's lap when they bid each other a good night and promised to see each other for breakfast the next morning. "You'll probably be up before the sun," Rachel warned.

They spent the next few days sightseeing. The castles and monasteries Rachel and Marilla had missed the first time they came were well and truly explored. One afternoon Jem disappeared and they all panicked for half an hour until he was brought back by a guard. "I think I just got distracted," he explained. "And then you were gone." They visited the market where Marilla introduced them all to her good friend George. After a bumpy start he made sure Marilla was well treated and always saved his best produce for her. Their elderly neighbour Sofia had died the previous winter but her granddaughter Zoey still lived nearby and they enjoyed a lovely afternoon together. Laura came to say hello one night. They roared with laughter as she regaled them with stories of island life.

Marilla was alone for a moment one afternoon on the beach unsure where everyone had got to, but enjoying the feeling of the sun on her skin, the call of the gulls high up and the swish of the gentle waves as they met the shore.

Joy plonked down on her towel next to her grandmother. "Who's that?" asked Marilla.

"It's me Granny, Joy," she said.

"Lovely," Marilla reached out her arm and Joy leant into her side. "Isn't it funny all this time you've been here and we haven't had a moment for a chat have we? Where's everyone else?"

"The boys and Dad are throwing a ball in the water," said Joy. "Walter is in the shallows and keeps dropping it. Dad is close to him and Jem is further out." Marilla smiled. "Rachel an' Grandpa an' Mum have gone for a walk," Joy strained her eyes as she looked down the beach. "I think Mum is between them both I bet she's talking a mile a minute."

"Yes that sounds like your mother." Marilla laughed then said, "How are you Joy, is everything alright?" Joy had been a bit aloof all holiday, whether that was because she was growing up and apart from her family or whether there was something else going on, Marilla hadn't yet determined.

Joy was torn; she loved her family particularly this woman who had never even seen her. It was funny to think that Granny had been blind longer than Joy had been alive. Despite living thousands of miles apart the two were close. Though Joy seldom had a chance to talk to her directly, if she wrote she knew Rachel would be reading her words out loud at some point and telephone calls were expensive and usually carried out at Christmas or on birthdays with the family hovering over her shoulder. It was just nice to sit together and share the moment but eventually, "Granny," she said in a small voice.

"Mm," said Marilla noncommittally thinking something significant might be shared.

"Um you know boys." Marilla nodded. "Um well I don't think um, that is to say I don't think I..." Joy ran out of bravery.

"Joy," said Marilla gently. "What do you know about Rachel and I?"

"What?" This conversation was not going at all how Joy had rehearsed it. She had played around the with wording day after day but somehow it was harder to say the words out loud than it had been in the privacy of her mind.

"Rachel and I, darling. Do you know why we live together?"

"I dunno, I never thought about it." She hadn't either. All her life it had been Granny and Aunt Rachel, two ancient ladies who just happened to enjoy each other's company so much they lived together in Greece. Her few friends thought it sounded exotic but Joy never really noticed. It was her usual. But now that Granny mentioned it like that she looked up at her profile. As usual Granny looked straight ahead not meeting her in the eye. It was always a bit weird that bit. If you ever forgot her lack of eyesight that brought you back. Mum or Dad or even her annoying brothers would look straight back, in Jem's case usually with a tongue poked out or a finger up his disgusting nose; but Granny would look blankly forward, her eyes unreactive. "Why do you?" Down in the water Walter swore when he dropped the ball.

Marilla always believed Joy was a rather precocious child but sometimes she could be a bit dim. "Darling Rachel and I are in love." Marilla might not have seen the flash of panic in Joy's eyes but she felt her tense up against her flank at this pronouncement. Felt the panic rather than saw it.

Joy's world tilted on its axis. She was old enough to know the difference between love and in love. The girls at school were always talking about it and in the movies the difference was plain. Her grandmother, Granny, Mum's mum, this old blind lady was in love with another woman? In love she said, in love not that she loved Rachel but that she was in love with Rachel. Joy gulped, "do Mum and Dad know?"

"Yes darling they know. Your mother was at college when Rachel and I moved in together."

"Oh..."

Marilla explained that she had always known Rachel but when her husband died and she found herself bereft, she invited Rachel to move in with her and Matthew, "for company at first," she said. It was not the whole story but it would do for now. Joy wondered momentarily what happened in their bed, but beat that thought down hard. They had just started the oh so embarrassing sex ed classes at school but that had all been about boys and girls, she was finding the classes hard going. There was little mention of fun, just the mechanics of baby making and that they may not do it.

Down the beach the tiny dark figures coalesced back into colour as they returned. Joy did not have much time. "I, I think I might be like you then, Granny. I think I like girls better. When did you know?"

Marilla sensing her urgency replied honestly, "I'm not sure. I had a couple of boyfriends along the way, but it never felt quite natural. When Rachel and I ... well it just felt right, and wonderful," she added. "Have you said anything to Mum and Dad?"

"No," panic surged through Joy again. Marilla hugged her tight. "Then for the time being it will be our secret. Though I suppose," she said thinking, "that we'll have to tell Rachel. I'm not much use at reading these days. Would that be okay darling? Do you mind if I let Rachel know? I will swear her to secrecy. When you are ready to tell your parents, I think it will be alright. You can always come here to us for a bit if you need."

Joy glanced back up at Marilla's bright blue eyes. Even if she couldn't use them to see she seemed pretty perceptive, "thank you Granny," she said and kissed Marilla on her lined cheek. She may have been old but it was comforting to have her around.

"It's my pleasure darling. I am honoured you chose me to confide in. That's rather special you know. Do you feel better now?"

"Er I guess." Joy was edging away and Marilla sensed that she had better leave it, especially as she could hear Anne's laughter in the distance.

"Are you having a good chat?" Anne called out to them.

"Yes, just getting to know each other a bit better," Marilla called back turning her head towards Anne's voice.

"I say," said Marilla when everyone was sitting together resting after their exertions. "How would it be if the children came to our place for a sleepover?"

"Can we Mum?" "Oh please." "Please." was the instant response said in unison. To Marilla their voices tumbled over each other.

"Are you sure?" Rachel looked a bit shocked at first but Anne noticed she relaxed soon enough, Rachel missed her own grandchildren.

"I don't see why not. We haven't had children at our house in forever. You two can have a night off, maybe go out on a dinner date if you like. I'm sure Matthew would like a break too. Mind you'll probably be sleeping on the couch or cushions on the floor you know," she said in warning.

The children didn't care about that, the prospect of a night away from their parents and with their beloved grandmother sounded enticing.

"Alright then, if you're sure you know what you're getting yourselves into," Anne said with a laugh. "We'll drop you all off and I'll come back later with pyjamas."

Later as they all sleepily sat around in their pjs, the salt and sand washed off and hair drying Jem asked Marilla a question. "Granny, do you miss being able to see?"

Marilla turned her sightless eyes in his direction and answered simply, "yes." They were all silent, even Walter held his breath. They had never actually asked her outright. They just knew they had a blind grandmother and had taken it for granted. Sensing more was required, Marilla continued as Rachel got up from her chair and went to sit on the arm of Marilla's placing her arm around her shoulders for support. "It's the little things I miss. Like clouds in the sky. It's funny I suppose but in my mind's eye I'm the same age as I was the last time I saw myself in the mirror. I probably look a bit different now?" she said smiling up at Rachel. "And I miss steam rising from my coffee cup in the morning and being able to read. I miss colours," she added warming to her theme. "So many things. I can remember them of course, but it's not the same. And of course I miss you all," she said tears welling. "I've never even seen any of you and that makes me sad." There was a silence at that and then little Walter was the first to get up and walk over. He tapped her on her knee and clambered up into her lap. "I love you Granny. I'll be your eyes." Marilla hugged him tight and and pulled herself together. "But I am so lucky in other ways my darlings. I have Rachel and I live on a beautiful island and I have such a wonderful family around me. I mustn't complain. But sometimes when I sleep I can see it's hard to wake up and find it was just a dream."

"Come now, bedtime," called Rachel breaking the spell. With Jem and Joy's help they arranged the cushions and spare pillows into a rudimentary bed of sorts and settled the children down.

"It's like camping," Walter said happily.

In their bed later Rachel held Marilla as she let herself weep. She hadn't wanted to bare her pain to the children, but Rachel knew. Appreciated what had been lost and how difficult the struggle towards acceptance had been. When they woke in the morning they found their bed had been invaded. The children lay in the middle and the women perched on the edges.

After breakfast Anne and Gilbert came to pick them up. The children were full of their adventure explaining about what had happened the night before and how they all wound up in the big bed. "I was cold." "I was uncomfortable." "I was lonely."

"Can you take them?" Anne said to Gilbert. "I just want a word in private."

Gilbert nodded and slung Walter up on to his shoulders and chivvied the older two out the door over their thanks yous and goodbyes.

"Marilla," Anne said as they sat down. "I found something curious at Green Gables that I hoped you might explain. She drew out an envelop from her coat and opened it. "It's this card. It looks hand drawn, it's a Oscar and you've written best actor award presented to Rachel. I just wondered why you'd drawn it and more to the point why you kept it all these years."

"Ah," said Marilla. "Um Rachel, you better come in here," she called out.

Rachel wandered in drying her hands on a tea towel, "yes?" she said then stopped when Anne waved the card at her. "Oh," she went pale and sat down abruptly.

"Do you want to tell her or should I?" Marilla said gently.

"You, you do it," stammered Rachel her confidence ebbing.

So Marilla did just that. Told Anne the whole story, about the abuse Thomas Lynde had meted out to Rachel all those years until Rachel had had enough. Anne wept then grimaced when the lamb hit his jaw, Rachel intervened at that point the visceral nature of the shockwave up her arm never to be forgotten. "The thing is Rachel has had to keep up an act of remorse ever since. I'm the only one who knows, hence the card." Marilla explained. "And now you do too."

Anne was shocked, Rachel was a murderer. Rachel the woman Marilla relied upon, the woman she loved. She was silent, unable to look either of them in the face.

"What you have to understand..." Marilla started.

But Anne held her hand up and said, "no."

Rachel got to her feet and took Marilla's and together they went out to the kitchen leaving Anne to her own thoughts. It had been a risk telling her and now they were worried.

It took a half an hour of contemplation before Anne joined them. She poured a cold coffee from the pot and sat down next to Rachel. "I think perhaps you did the right thing. I knew he was terrible, but you never went into details. Here, you have the card back, Rachel. It's yours." She swigged and grimaced at the cold coffee. "I'm proud of you."

The relief was palpable. Rachel hugged her and Marilla smiled.

It was only later when they got home and got their photos developed that Anne truly understood what they had there together. There was one photo taken on their last day. They had gotten up early and walked down to the fish market. The heady smell of fresh fish just in from the sea had the kids holding their noses in disgust. As the sun rose Gilbert had pulled his camera up and taken a quick snap of Rachel and Marilla. Hair trailed down their shoulders, bronzed limbs peeked out from under their dresses. Rachel had her arm around Marilla's shoulders and she had leant in to give Marilla a kiss on the cheek. Marilla was laughing, her bright blue unseeing eyes 'looking' straight at the camera. Bliss personified.


End file.
